Legacy of the Father
by audrea-lynn
Summary: The wizarding world remembers what happened on Halloween night almost 14 years ago, but few know why it happened. Now, with Voldemort back, Harry must discover his family's secrets before Voldemort strikes again. (Set in the 5th year)
1. The Mystery

Title: Legacy of the Father (1)  
Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created, and owned by JK Rowling,  
various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Chapter One - The Mystery  
  
He should be home by now. Certainly, he should be home by now, Lily thought as she rocked baby Harry to sleep. His eyelids hovered a moment or two over his green eyes then closed.  
  
Lily rocked him for a moment or two longer to ensure that he was well and truly asleep. Satisfied that he was, she laid Harry in his cradle and tucked his blanket around him snugly, then headed down the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen. Her evening tea had gotten cold and stale, so Lily brewed another cup. She hesitated to make another cup yet. No point, really, if James wasn't home yet.  
  
James had left some hours ago to run some errands and minor business. He had told her when he left that he would not be long. That had been in the early afternoon, and, as evening started to set,  
Lily's nerves were beginning to fray.  
  
Lily looked out the window, glancing at both the sky and the ground for any sign, but none was forthcoming. Deciding it better to not think on the matter, she went back up to Harry's nursery to watch young Harry sleep and, she hoped, grab a small bit of sleep herself.  
  
James had always loved flying. It was one of the reasons he had loved being Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Now that he was out of Hogwarts, James would sometimes fly about at night,  
but recent events had always seemed to find their way to the forefront whenever he thought about this. Lily and Harry were so important to him that he couldn't risk it. Not now. Not with Voldemort on the killing spree as he was.  
  
It had seemed that not long ago, though it was more than ten years ago, Voldemort had shown up on the wizarding scene as the next great evil. Almost from the start, he killed or cursed all who stood in his way. About a year ago, though, he had begun to kill everyone who refused to join him, working his way through the less powerful wizards towards the Potters, and, James thought, eventually to Dumbledore himself.  
  
Pulling himself from his deeper memory to more of the present, he remembered why he had left his wife and child today: he had to deliver two packages. Both now where they would be the safest, James started home again. He walked for an hour or so before he realized that it had gotten awfully dark.  
So dark that it was becoming hard to see anything at all. James, stepping into a small thicket on the side of the road, he pulled out his wand and his calendar.  
  
"Lumos!"  
  
The end of the wand sprung to life and a cheery light spread over the small area. James looked over his calendar. Tonight was scheduled to be a new moon. Perfect. He could fly without near as much worry of being detected. Placing his calendar back into his bag, James begun to head off.  
  
Then he noticed a small patch of a white powder on the ground. Taking a pinch and rolling it between two of his fingers, he soon realized what it was: Floo powder. But the nearest wizard chimney he knew of was at Wormtail's house, some miles away. Why would someone have Floo powder out here?  
  
Dismissing it as just a careless person who had spilled some Floo powder, James decided to headed off. Pulling his broom, shrunk to a few inches, out of his pocket, he quickly turned his wand on it.  
  
"Engorgio!"  
  
A swish and a flick later, the broom began to grow until it was its normal size once again.  
Climbing aboard, he jettisoned away, once again enjoying the sensation of the wind against his face and the smell on the breeze this far in the air. I need to get home, James thought. There will be time later for this.  
  
Concentrating more on his flying, the broom and its passenger flew faster and higher in the night sky, speeding north by east. Landing about a half-hour later, James immediate ran up to Harry's nursery. He found his wife Lily and his son Harry both pleasantly asleep. He walked over to the cradle to watch for a moment. The little boy, now a year old, had stolen his heart as quickly as Lily had the first time they had met. Now, unaware of the possible danger around him, James thought, he sleeps so soundly.  
  
Then he glanced at Lily. Her eyes were closed, and she was asleep, but, James noticed, there were tears there. There were also dry streams down her face that spoke to her previous tears' paths. She had been crying in her sleep, and James didn't need to ask why. So many wizards that they had known,  
been friends or acquaintances with had been killed by Voldemort. James himself had to admit that so many deaths at the hand of Voldemort had made him grieve most reservedly.  
  
As he watched, Lily woke up.  
  
"You're back. Did everything go okay? Are they hidden safely?"  
  
"Yes, everything went fine. Everything is how it should be, for now."  
  
"Will he be able to find them when the time comes?"  
  
"I know where they are, and there are clues left in some choice places that he should be able to follow."  
  
"James, I am so afraid. What if you were right, and Voldemort is just working his way to Dumbledore? We'd be right in his path. What about Harry?"  
  
"I've thought a lot about that, but that's part of the reason why we decided to make Peter the Secrets Keeper. Sirius was sure Voldemort would look to him, but Peter is more inconspicuous."  
  
"Are you sure about that? After all, this is our lives that we are deciding upon now. Ours and Harry's. Oh, James, without us, where would he go?"  
  
"Well, Sirius is his godfather."  
  
"But only in our world. According to others, he would go my sister's family. He would never know about who he is, and..."  
  
"I know, Lily. It's not a thought I relish in either, but I think that we can trust in Peter. He has been one of our closest friends for many years. I don't think that he would betray us."  
  
"I hope you are right."  
  
Voldemort grinned. His plan was going so well. And more good news was just arriving in the form of Wormtail. With his information, his plan would continue.  
  
"Where are they, Wormtail?"  
  
"At their house, as I said they would be, My Lord. James should just be arriving there."  
  
"The fools still trust in you as their Secrets Keeper, then. Good. Stay here, Wormtail. I have some business to take care of."  
  
Voldemort left, ruefully laughing inside. Those Potters, James and Lily and that son of theirs,  
were as good as gone. No one rejected Lord Voldemort without paying the consequences, thought Voldemort. No one.  
  
He pulled a small bag of Floo powder out of his pocket. Wormtail's fireplace was well lit, so Voldemort threw his Floo powder into the flame.  
  
"The Malfoy chimney."  
  
Voldemort stepped into the fire, and he knew instantly of the powder's effectiveness as the scenery blurred and he was suddenly standing in a familiar chimney. There to greet him were Lucius and that simpering wife of his. They also had a young son, but this child, Voldemort mused, would be brought up to appreciate him and the Dark Arts.  
  
"Well, Lucius, is this the boy I hear you speak of so often?"  
  
"Yes, My Lord. This is Draco."  
  
"He will make a fine Dark wizard when he is older. Perhaps he might serve as close to me as his father does, if both of you are loyal."  
  
"It is my hope, My Lord, that you might find us both so worthy."  
  
"You are proving your loyalty daily."  
  
Voldemort moved to door, giving no bidding to either Lucius or his wife. The Malfoys lived much closer to the Potters than Wormtail did, but it would still be a fair walk from here. Some of the way would have to be covered by broomstick, but he could hardly afford to alert the Potters. They may have the means of contacting Dumbledore quickly, and Dumbledore was the last person Voldemort wanted to see right now. His strength was not near what it would have to be to defeat the old man. Over 100 years old and Dumbledore was still one of the most powerful and skilled wizards in the world. It annoyed Voldemort that he could not fight the old man right now and be done with it, but some things required more patience. This was one of them.  
  
Voldemort hated to fly. Perhaps at one time he had liked it, but now it seemed so primative.  
Maybe it was because his enemies liked it that Voldemort hated flying. Maybe that was it. But tonight, he must fly. There was no other way. Godric's Hollow was still some miles away, but the journey by Floo powder had covered half the distance. This flight would cover most of the rest.  
  
Tonight's work would bring him one step closer to his goal. Dumbledore. Slowly but surely,  
Voldemort was whittling away at Dumbledore's support. Once the Potters were out of the way, there would be very little resistance left.  
  
Focus. I must maintain focus, Voldemort whispered to himself as his broom began to wobble in midair. Leaning forward slightly, the broom responded and Voldemort was once again on his way to Godric's Hollow. The scenery began to change rather rapidly. The suburban scenery was soon replaced by rural manors and farms that had weathered the centuries. Some of these housed wizarding families as old as the manors themselves, some held Muggles that knew nothing of the special heritage of the houses. Some of the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers that Voldemort hated most lived in some of these old manors.  
  
As he passed over Ottery-St.Catchpole, he saw the Burrow, where that fool Weasley lived. Weasley and his six children and wife were a disgrace to the perfect wizard world that Voldemort wished to create. But the Weasleys too were close to Dumbledore. But, Voldemort thought, the trouble with the Weasleys wasn't the Weasleys themselves but their house. It was one of those damned wizard family houses and the magical chimney that could lead straight to Dumbledore that kept the Weasleys safe.  
That and the fact that they were so weak. Voldemort had to deal with the bigger fish tonight.  
  
The Potters.  
  
Focused again on his prey, Voldemort flew onward. It must be done tonight, before the Potters sought refuse elsewhere. They must know that Wormtail had betrayed them. If they didn't know by now,  
they would know soon. Then Dumbledore, James, and Lily would choose a new Secrets Keeper. It would mean having to turn another person against them. It would probably be Sirius Black. He would never turn. Never. As the young Potter's godfather, he would be the best protection of the Potters'  
secrets. And besides, Voldemort had already tried to turn young Sirius. It was because of his persistance that Sirius had advised the Potters to make Wormtail the new Secrets Keeper. A decision they were going to regret tonight.  
  
Voldemort grinned. There, over the next hill, was Godric's Hollow. Time to land, Voldemort thought. Time to prepare for the cleansing. The house was close now. There was less of a walk than he had thought. Wormtail obviously had landed a good deal further out than Voldemort himself had done.  
  
He could see the lights in the house. He could feel the powerful Charms that protected the house,  
Lily's work for sure. Here and there were traces of James' work. The small gnomes that seemed to be made of solid material moved their eyes ever so slightly, giving away James' Transfiguration work.  
They would be raising an alarm very soon. Voldemort was sure of it, but no sound came from the still gnomes or from the Charms.  
  
Now he had a clear view of the windows, three which were lit. Two downstairs, one upstairs.  
Upstairs, according to Wormtail, is where Voldemort would find the baby Potter's nursery. Something moved into the light of one of the downstairs windows, and Voldemort recognized the build as that of James Potter.  
  
"There you are, Potter," Voldemort whispered under his breath, excitedly.  
  
Moving assuredly now, Voldemort walked straight to the front door, and, with his wand raised, he smashed through the door. In the room to his left was James.  
  
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off--"  
  
Lily stood at the top of the stairs slightly to the right of Voldemort. In her arms was young Harry. Lily did not stand long. Obediant to the frantic yells of her husband, Lily ran back down the hallway and disappeared from Voldemort's view.  
  
"Leave him be, Voldemort! He's just a child!"  
  
"But your child, Potter. You know what that makes him. The same thing it makes you."  
  
"He's a child! What wrong has he done you?"  
  
"He was born my enemy. I can't afford to have him live, James."  
  
Voldemort raised his wand, then he noticed that James was running for his, located on the table halfway across the room.  
  
"We were born to be enemies, James."  
  
James had just reached his wand, but already he knew it was too late.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
As the green light sped from Voldemort's wand, a faint blue light was emitted from James' wand.  
James focused his every cell to add power to the spell. The two beams met in midair, closer to James than to Voldemort. Already the green light of the Killing Curse was winning. It was smashing the blue light and was working its way to James. James concentrated more. There had to be some way to avoid the curse. There had to be some way. His thoughts turned to his wife and son who were hiding upstairs. He had to beat Voldemort for them to be safe. New purpose flowed into James' veins, and with it came new strength. He instinctively added it to the wand's blue light. The green light slowed. But still, James thought, it comes. It was a foot away, an few inches. It was so close now that he could see little else but the light. Everything he saw turned into shades of green. It touched his cheek and instantly he felt the pain run through him.  
  
Voldemort took his tally. One down, one to go, he thought as he looked at the now dead James Potter. James hadn't even given him the satisfaction of screaming at his death. No matter, Voldemort thought. He's dead now. The boy, though, was still very much alive.  
  
The youngest Potter was upstairs. Voldemort made his way up the stairs and, with his wand still drawn, walked down the hallway.  
  
"Alohamora!"  
  
The Locking Charm was too strong to be undone by this spell. Lily's skill in distress was impressive.  
  
"Finite Incantatem!"  
  
A few seconds passed. Then a few more. Slowly, Voldemort sensed that the power of the Locking Charm was dropping. He waited but a few moments more.  
  
"Alohamora!"  
  
The Locking Charm, weakened by Voldemort's Finite Charm, was broken. Voldemort kicked the door open with his foot. Inside the room, guarding her son with her body as a shield, was Lily Potter.  
  
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"  
  
"Move aside, you silly girl...stand aside now..."  
  
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead--"  
  
Voldemort moved closer, raising his wand slightly.  
  
"Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy..."  
  
Voldemort started to laugh, then something caught his eye. Lily Potter had her wand. He sensed her power flowing into it. She was preparing to catch him off guard. With his wand already charged for use, he quickly acted.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Lily Potter dropped her wand and began to scream in pain. Her body contorted as the curse sent death through her. She fell to the floor as Voldemort laughed in amusement.  
  
"Foolish, really. Now who's here to stop me?"  
  
Voldemort walked over to the crib behind Lily's now dead body. Inside, sitting as stalwartly as his father had stood, was young Harry Potter. Voldemort couldn't help but chuckle. This boy would never grow up to be a threat to him. Not now. Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at Harry's head.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
The green light burst forth from Voldemort's wand. It sped towards young Harry as Voldemort laughed, but his laughter was cut short. The green light hit Harry straight in the forehead then bounced back towards its source. Amidst Harry's cries of pain came Voldemort's yells of surprise. He tried to duck from the green light, but he was not fast enough to evade it. It struck him in the shoulder, and he dropped his wand to the floor. He was soon to follow it as he felt the pain start to course its way through him.  
  
This can't be happening, Voldemort thought. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a vial half full of a silvery liquid. Voldemort quickly downed the liquid and stuffed the vial into his cloak.  
Picking up his wand, he ran from the house. The Charms he had sensed before entering the house were now gone. The transfigured gnomes were truly stone now. Voldemort thought of these things for only a moment. He started to run into the woods out behind the Potter house. Leaning against a tree for support, Voldemort watched as pieces of the house began to fall off and crumble. Maybe, Voldemort whispered under his breath. Maybe the house would do what he could not.  
  
A sudden sound from the house made Voldemort jump. From the chimney, covered in Floo powder, was Hagrid. The giant man looked about at the ruins of what used to be the Potter house. Enough of the structure was there for Hagrid to make it up the stairs to the nursery. He picked up the infant and,  
as he quietly wept, carried Harry out of the house and started to make for the street. A noise from above made both Voldemort and Hagrid look to the night sky and a set of lights that were drawing ever closer to the earth. It was a flying motorcycle. The vehicle he recognized as Sirius Black's motorcycle, and the driver, though Voldemort couldn't make him out clearly, seemed to have the same build of Sirius.  
  
Hagrid greeted the driver, and his loud voice carried far enough that Voldemort could just hear the words.  
  
"Sirius, don't go in. They're both gone, but little Harry here is just fine."  
  
"Give Harry to me, Hagrid. I'm his godfather. I'll look after him..."  
  
"I've got my orders from Dumbledore. He's going to live with his next of kin."  
  
"But they're the biggest Muggles in the world! He'll never learn anything of magic and his parents and our world in that house. Trust me. He's better off with me. I'll explain it to Dumbledore."  
  
"Sorry, Sirius. I really am. Why don't you see to James and Lily before the Muggles get to them."  
  
At this, Sirius sniffled, and his eyes filled with tears. Hagrid patted him on the shoulder as gently as he could. Tears were streaming from Hagrid eyes, too, but he had a job to do.  
  
"How are you going to get back to Dumbledore?"  
  
"There's a larger wizard chimney not too far from here, according to Dumbledore, and I was given plenty of Floo powder."  
  
"If you must take him to Dumbledore, take my bike. I won't need it anymore."  
  
Hagrid pulled his goggles over his eyes, pulled the blankets around Harry, who by now had stopped crying, started the engine, and off they flew into the night.  
  
Voldemort watched them leave. If Hagrid was taking him to Dumbledore, then Dumbledore must already know about all of tonight's events and their outcomes. They all must. Damn them. Damn them all. He would get back at them. Most especially Harry, the boy who dared to beat him. He watched Sirius start to weep over his two dead friends then left out of disgust. 


	2. The Letter from No One

Title: Legacy of the Father (2)  
Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Chapter Two - The Letter from No One  
  
Harry awoke to the sound of Voldemort's frantic yells and the nightmaric visions of Cedric Diggory's death at Wormtail's hands running around in his head. This can't go on, Harry thought, hoping to cheer himself up. His memories concerning the last challenge at the Triwizard Tournament were so clear in Harry's mind, he wondered if he'd ever be able to put them out of his head for even two seconds. What I need is a Pensieve, Harry mused. Maybe then I could finally get on with life.  
  
Harry looked at his new wizard watch, a gift from Sirius to cheer him up. It was nearly time for Aunt Petunia to wake the house with her shrill calls to Uncle Vernon and Dudley, though it had taken Harry nearly a week to figure out how to read the watch properly. Sirius had told him in the letter that had accompanied the watch that the watch was similar to one that both Dumbledore and James Potter had before the the infamous night at Godric's Hollow.  
  
Harry cleaned up and dressed before returning to his made up bed. Next to his bed was his trunk, full of all his school books, his Firebolt, and many other odd tidbits that were carried from Hogwarts to Privet Drive. Next to the window, roosted on top of her cage rather than in it, was Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl and messenger. Nearby was Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl from Sirius. Pig, as Pigwidgeon was called, had arrived while Harry was asleep, and Ron's letter was lying on the already cluttered desk near the half-open window.  
  
Harry opened the letter to find Ron's scribbled handwriting.  
  
Harry,  
  
I hope you're doing okay. Mom's really worried and she wants to bring you to the Burrow, but Dad thinks that you might be safer where you are. He got a letter from Dumbledore that said about as much. I don't know really how you could be safer with a bunch of Muggles, but maybe there is something to this situation that we don't know about.  
  
Have you heard from anybody else from Hogwarts? I'm sure you've probably had a ton of letters after what happened at the Triwizard Tournament. Anyhow, I hope to hear from you soon. Maybe Dumbledore will send you a letter to tell you that you can come to the Burrow.  
  
-Ron  
  
Harry, actually, hadn't received mail from very many people. There had been a letter from Hermione yesterday, and there seemed to be a virtual stream of letters to and from Sirius, even in hiding. And there were always hints or clues that Remus Lupin was dictating some parts of the letters while Sirius did the writing. Harry still hadn't worked up the nerve to ask Sirius what Dumbledore had meant by the "old crowd." His mission for Remus and Sirius had been to find, inform, and recruit them to start allying themselves seperate of the Ministry of Magic and against Voldemort. Dumbledore had only named a few names, but Harry only knew of Remus Lupin. He had never heard the names of Mundungus Fletcher and Arabella Figg before. Maybe they were friends of his parents, as Lupin and Sirius had been.  
  
Harry reached into his trunk and found the photo album that Hagrid had made for him. Looking through the pictures, he saw a great many people he didn't know but who all seemed to know him. They eagerly waved and smiled at him as he flipped through the pages. Then, in a picture of guests celebrating, he caught sight of someone he did know, though it had been a few years since he had seen this woman. She smiled faintly at Harry, then, recognizing the realization that spread across his expression, she nodded.  
  
It was Arabella Figg. Mrs. Figg, who lived a few blocks away. Harry had often been sent to her house on Dudley's birthdays. He couldn't say he enjoyed being in the house, but his mind wandered instead to all the reasons that Mrs. Figg could have for not allowing Harry to know who she was. Dumbledore must have known, though. Maybe that was why she never told Harry that she had been a friend of his parents.  
  
Turning his attention back to the picture, Harry noticed that the picture form of Mrs. Figg was pointing to something within the picture. Harry tried to follow the path of the pointing finger, but he could barely make out where it was pointing, let alone anything in particular that Mrs. Figg might be pointing out to him.  
  
A sudden knock on his door made Harry jump.  
  
"Are you awake yet?"  
  
"Yes, Aunt Petunia."  
  
"Then hurry up, boy. Get out here!"  
  
Stashing the photo album back into his trunk, Harry walked to the dining room to find very little room was available amidst all of Aunt Marge's bags, sent ahead to be sure that they arrived by the time she did. Oh, that's right, Harry thought. She's supposed to coming again. It had been two years since Harry had last seen Aunt Marge, and Harry was skeptical that she ever wanted to see him again. After all, the last time they had seen each other, Harry had made Aunt Marge blow up like a balloon.  
  
"Now, Aunt Marge will be arriving very soon. Just as soon as we get him out of the house."  
  
"Where am I going?" Harry asked, not knowing of anyone in the wizarding community that was allowed to house him right now.  
  
"You're going to the Grangers for today. Tomorrow, according to this letter, someone is coming to take you from there."  
  
The parchment was not from Dumbledore. It was plain white paper with plain black ink. Dumbledore always used an antique-looking ivory paper and green ink, the same as everyone else at Hogwarts.  
  
"Who? Can I have the letter?"  
  
"It doesn't say who. And no, you can not have the letter."  
  
"Does it say who wrote it?"  
  
"What does that matter?" retorted Uncle Vernon, starting to get a tad upset at this line of questioning.  
  
"Just curious is all. Maybe I'll ask my godfather if he knows." Harry started out of the room. He wasn't very hungry for the bacon and eggs that Aunt Petunia was burning in the pan.  
  
"Where are you headed? I told you that you are going to the Grangers."  
  
"I need to pack a few things," Harry lied.  
  
Harry couldn't go to Hermione's if someone other than Dumbledore was expecting him to be there. What would Sirius think about this? Harry ran to his room, making very certain that the door was closed and locked, then sat down to write a letter to Sirius. Harry stopped before the pen ever touched the paper. Wait, he told himself. This letter, and any response that Sirius would have, would have to be delivered by owl, which could take a while. Meanwhile, Uncle Vernon would be sending Harry to Hermione's before too long. Definitely sometime this morning.  
  
He had to think of something, anything that could get him out of this pinch. If it wasn't for that letter, and its implications, Harry would have been thrilled to go to Hermione's. But what if that letter was a trick? With Voldemort now in full capacity and his power coming back, Harry had to be more careful than his parents before him.  
  
Harry was utterly lost as to what to do. Hedwig flew over to him and nibbled on his ear, her sign of affection. If he wasn't an underage wizard, Harry knew a few spells and charms that would have proven effective right now. And his Firebolt would have been a nice escape vehicle if it wasn't down right outlawed to ride them where Muggle could see them. Privet Drive residents could be counted on to look right at him as he flew by.  
  
He would have counted on Ron and his brothers to rescue him as they had done in the past, but Ron's letter had stated as clear as day that the Weasleys were staying in Ottery-St. Catchpole for a while longer.  
  
Maybe he could ask Hermione what to do. She was a wizard, or, at least, she would be soon. That's what he would do. A knock on the door, then another was followed by the resounding sounds of Uncle Vernon yelling.  
  
"Open this door right this instant!"  
  
Harry quickly shut the chest, put an unhappy Hedwig back in her cage, and open the door.  
  
"Locking the door, eh?"  
  
"Must have been a slip of the hand."  
  
Uncle Vernon surveyed the room, taking notice that there was something out of place.  
  
"We are not collecting owls, are we?"  
  
Harry turned around, noticing that he had forgotten to send Pigwideon back to Ron.  
  
"He's just visiting."  
  
"Get him out of here! This isn't a zoo!"  
  
Harry ran to Pig and sent him out the window, closing it behind himself.  
  
"I don't want to see any more owls around here, coming or going! That one better stay in that cage, too!"  
  
"She stays in there."  
  
Dudley popped into the room, brandishing his Smeltings stick. Harry could just see Dudley using it against Hedwig. He would think it great fun to chase Hedwig with the stick in hand.  
  
"She's in her cage. I'm sure that she's going to go to sleep pretty soon. She'll be real quiet then."  
  
"Maybe she should sleep more often. Get your things all stowed away in your trunk yet?"  
  
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."  
  
Uncle Vernon, using a small trolley, took Harry's trunk out to the car. Aunt Petunia herded Harry, carrying Hedwig's cage, into the car, with Dudley getting in on the other side of the car and looking smug about it.  
  
Hermione's house was only about thirty miles away from the Dursley's. This whole trip seemed odd. The Dursleys were actually taking him to visit one of his friends from Hogwarts. Perhaps it was the fact that the Grangers weren't wizards (not all of them) that allowed Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to allow this. Maybe they didn't remember that Hermione was a wizard, just like him. That would have sent them for a loop. Magic was a deplorable thing to the Dursleys, so wizards were doubly deplorable for using it.  
  
Hermione's parents met them at the front door.  
  
"Hi, Harry! We've heard so much about you," greeted Mrs. Granger.  
  
"You must be Harry's uncle. Dr. Alexander Granger, pleased to meet you."  
  
"Here. You can have him." And with that, Uncle Vernon dropped Harry's trunk off the trolley and left.  
  
"Well, honestly! How do you do it, Harry?"  
  
"Do what, Mrs. Granger?"  
  
"Live with them?"  
  
"Day to day. Where's Hermione?" Harry asked as both he and Dr. Granger hauled Harry's trunk to the spare bedroom, and Mrs. Granger followed carrying Hedwig's cage.  
  
"In her room, studying," Mrs. Granger replied, pointing to the room across the hallway.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, our Hermione has been studying all summer. She's getting ready for something called the O.W.L.s."  
  
"The O.W.L.s don't come until the end of this next year."  
  
"What are the O.W.L.s anyway? Hermione was trying to explain them to us, but I'm afraid she lost me somewhere along the way."  
  
"Well, the O.W.L.s are tests of a wizard's skill in certain basic areas of magic, like charms and potions making. That's what I've been studying," said Hermione, making both her parents and Harry jump.  
  
"Hey, Hermione."  
  
"Hey, Harry. Have you started studying yet?"  
  
"Some. The Dursleys are not the most understanding when it comes to this type of studying."  
  
"We can see how that could be the case," retorted Dr. Granger.  
  
"Well, now that you're here, we can study together. Come on. Get your books."  
  
"We'll leave you to it then."  
  
Harry wasn't much in the mood for studying, but he needed to talk to Hermione. Grabbing his books from his trunk, Harry joined Hermione.  
  
Hermione's room was the model of clean. Even her open books on the desk were in order.  
  
"Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute before we start studying?"  
  
"What about?"  
  
Harry pulled the photo album from between two of his school books. He turned to the page with Mrs. Figg's picture.  
  
"There is a person in this photo from my parent's wedding that keeps pointing at something over in this general direction. Do you see anything?"  
  
Hermione took the book in her hands and examined the photo carefully. Mrs. Figg again pointed in the direction she had before.  
  
"Look where she's pointing. See anything unusual?"  
  
"It's hard to tell. Give me a minute."  
  
Hermione looked for a few seconds, then abruptly put the book down and ran to the desk. She returned with a magnifying glass. Looking at the picture again through the magnifying glass, Hermione soon let out a gasp.  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
"Harry, look back at the far table to the right of the photo, under the table, hovering just above the ground. What is it?"  
  
Harry, following the directions with his eyes, he soon saw the very thing Hermione was describing. As close to the ground as it was, and as far away as it was from the photographer, the object was too out of focus to tell what it was.  
  
"What could it be?"  
  
"I don't know, Hermione. I just couldn't tell."  
  
"Neither could I. Are there any other pictures of it? Is she pointing to it anywhere else?" Harry flipped backwards through the pages of the book again to make sure. There were plenty of pictures that moved. After all, this was a wizard wedding and these were wizard photographs. There were pictures of the guests, among them Sirius Black and Remus Lupin; pictures of his parents smiling and waving happily to him. Towards the front were pictures of Harry as a baby, and at these, Harry blushed.  
  
"Who gave you this album, Harry?"  
  
"Hagrid did."  
  
It had been a gift from the heart. Hagrid understood, as many of the older wizards did, how much Harry had wanted to know about his parents. These pictures were a first step. Harry knew what his parents looked like and that they had loved him from the very first moment of his life to the very last of their own.  
  
Somehow, Hermione understood what these pictures meant to Harry.  
  
"You can put them away if you're uncomfortable sharing them."  
  
"It's okay. I just want to have known them for a longer time than I did."  
  
"Hagrid knew that when he gave you this. I guess he wanted to show you the truest side of them,  
at a time when You-Know-Who wasn't on their mind."  
  
"I think Voldemort was on their mind, but that, for these few days, they didn't let it occupy them the way it did usually."  
  
"What's wrong, Harry? I've never seen you this upset unless something was really wrong."  
  
"Hermione, who told your parents that I would be here?"  
  
"The letter is downstairs. Let's see."  
  
Harry and Hermione raced down the stairs.  
  
"Hey Mom, do you know where that letter about Harry coming here is now?"  
  
"It should be on the desk in the study."  
  
Hermione led the way to the study. There, true to her mother's words was the letter. White paper, black ink. Same as the letter to the Dursleys telling them where to take Harry. Taking the letter, they walked back up to Harry's room.  
  
"Is it from Dumbledore?"  
  
Hermione read through letter carefully.  
  
"I don't know. It's not signed."  
  
"And the paper and ink don't look like those used by the teachers, especially Dumbledore and McGonagall."  
  
"They would sign it. They would have nothing to gain by not signing."  
  
"Yeah, we might not do as the letters say."  
  
"Letters?"  
  
"Yeah, the Dursleys got one telling them to bring me here."  
  
"Who besides Dumbledore would move you to here?"  
  
"Voldemort."  
  
"Why here?"  
  
"No wizards besides the two of us. And something about being with the Dursleys is protection for me. This gets me out of that protection's area."  
  
"Maybe you should tell Sirius about this."  
  
"My thoughts exactly. And Ron. Maybe the Weasleys know something that we don't."  
  
"Well, we only have one owl, Hedwig."  
  
"Hmm. Good point. Well, Hedwig, are you up for two trips back-to-back?"  
  
Hedwig looked at him, then nibbled on his ear in response. Harry tied the note Hermione had written to Hedwig's leg.  
  
"As fast as you can to Sirius."  
  
Hedwig flew out the open window and disappeared from sight.  
  
"I hope Hedwig is fast."  
  
"I hope she can find Sirius. As close as it is to the next term, Sirius and Remus may already be on the go," Harry said.  
  
"What do you think Sirius will do when he hears of this?"  
  
"I don't know. I hope he doesn't do anything irrational. After all, besides Dumbledore, we're the only ones who know how to get to him, and I think that's a good thing."  
  
Hedwig was the last being Sirius Black expected to see that morning. Remus was packing while Sirius prepared the foodstuffs that would keep them for a majority of the journey. Hedwig landed on the counter next to the stove and wiggled her foot to get Sirius' attention.  
  
"Harry has written, eh, Hedwig?"  
  
He opened the note, noticing the signature as that of Hermione. He read it thoughtfully.  
  
"This isn't right. Remus, come look at this. Someone has moved Harry from Privet Drive to the Granger's house."  
  
"Do they say who it is?"  
  
Sirius noticed the second page. This wasn't in Harry or Hermione's writing.  
  
"They sent the note that told the Grangers to expect Harry. I don't recognize the handwriting."  
  
"Any signature?"  
  
"None. 'Dumbledore or McGonagall would sign,' Hermione writes. I think she's right. If it was from the school or one of the teachers, they wouldn't spook Harry by not signing it."  
  
Remus, finished with packing for the moment, appeared in the room.  
  
"Could Voldemort...?"  
  
"He is alive, Remus, and nothing would give him more satisfaction than to kill Harry. We both know that. But why allow him to arrive at the Grangers? Why not kill him en route, when no one else would be there to protect him?"  
  
"Isn't he still unprotected?"  
  
"Don't underestimate Hermione and Harry. They may not be through Hogwarts yet, but think about how much the two of them know. You were their teacher, after all."  
  
"Only for a year, but you're right. They do know a great deal more than even they realize. But is that enough to fight Voldemort himself with? Especially now?"  
  
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Remus?"  
  
"But Dumbledore ordered us to do something else. Besides, Hogwarts and Hogsmeade are the last places you need to be. What if someone were to see you?"  
  
"Then what to do, Remus?"  
  
"Honestly, I think our hands are tied in this matter."  
  
"What to tell Harry?"  
  
"To be cautious, definitely."  
  
"I think if Harry knew to alert Hermione and us that he knows to be on guard."  
  
"I pray so."  
  
Sirius picked up the quill and wrote for a moment. Reattaching the parchment to Hedwig's leg, he sent her off.  
  
"What did you write?"  
  
"Just some advice, Remus. Just some really good advice." 


	3. Friendly Advice & Dangerous Query

Title: Legacy of the Father (3)  
Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Chapter Three - Friendly Advice & Dangerous Query  
  
Harry, already unnerved by the letters, was now driven further by the rapidly approaching time for his departure from the Granger house by someone he didn't as yet know. Hedwig's arrival quickly drew Harry's attention, and he read the letter as fast as he could.  
  
Harry,  
  
Remus and I looked over the other letter you sent us. Neither of us recognized the handwriting. You could be in more danger because of your father's inheritance than we had originally thought. Keep yourself safe within the walls that have protected you before. Remember, not everything and everyone at Hogwarts is what it seems.  
  
- Sirius  
  
P.S. - The Marauder's Map was created for a purpose, a purpose for which none but you can fulfill.  
  
Hermione was soon awake as well. Noticing Hedwig in the window as she entered the guest bedroom, she turned to Harry.  
  
"Sirius wrote back?"  
  
"Yeah, but I don't understand what he's talking about."  
  
"Let me see."  
  
Harry handed the letter to Hermione, who read through it carefully.  
  
"So, what do you think?"  
  
"Harry, you must have some idea what he's talking about!"  
  
"Hermione, I'm telling you the honest truth! I don't know what this means!"  
  
"Harry, what was your father's inheritance?"  
  
"The only thing I have from him is the Invisibility Cloak that Dumbledore gave me. But, Hermione, I think there must be a mistake if that cloak is what Sirius is talking about. A fair number of people know that I have that cloak, so Sirius wouldn't have to skirt the issue. He would put it as straightforward as possible."  
  
"What about this purpose that the Marauder's Map has for you?"  
  
Harry opened his trunk and pulled the Marauder's Map out.  
  
"You still have it?"  
  
"Of course. It was partly my dad's. Remus gave it back to me after our third year, just before he left."  
  
"It could have been helpful during the Tournament."  
  
"That would have been cheating."  
  
"Oh, and looking at the dragons beforehand wasn't?"  
  
"Well, yes, but I was sure to tell Cedric and the people from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were also there. So, who was cheating?"  
  
"None of you were supposed to know."  
  
"And none of us knew which one was ours before we started that day."  
  
"You know what I mean. Anyhow, the map. Your purpose written anywhere?"  
  
"Well, it's blank right now."  
  
"Not for long. Aparecium!"  
  
"The last time someone tried to make the map appear without the right knowledge about it, it wrote some dreadfully ugly remarks back."  
  
"Who did that?"  
  
"Snape."  
  
"Snape?" Harry nodded, and Hermione choked back a giggle. No one but the Slytherins liked Snape,  
and Snape only liked the Slytherins.  
  
Sudden writing on the parchment drew their attention.  
  
Mr. Wormtail would like to congratulate Ms. Granger on her failed attempt to make us reveal our secret.  
  
Hermione gasped.  
  
"They know who I am!" But there was more.  
  
Mr. Moony agrees with Mr. Wormtail and adds that Ms. Granger would do well to learn her lessons and leave this parchment to someone who knows how to use it.  
  
Mr. Padfoot concurs and would like to note how pretty Ms. Granger is when she's angry.  
  
"Who are these characters? How do they know who I am?"  
  
"You've met most of them. Moony is Remus Lupin; Padfoot is Sirius Black; and Wormtail is Peter Pettigrew."  
  
"Then Prongs is..."  
  
"My dad."  
  
Much as I, Mr. Prongs, hate to say it, Hermione, they're right. Give the map to Harry. He'll show you how to do it.  
  
Both Harry and Hermione sighed. Hermione stepped back from the map.  
  
"Have at, Harry. They obviously want you to teach me how to do it correctly."  
  
Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket.  
  
"I swear that I am up to no good."  
  
The map of Hogwarts appeared. A small dot named Filch was moving in the hallway near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Of the teachers, Harry didn't see a single dot at Hogwarts for them. But in Hogsmeade, Harry noticed that there was a familiar dot moving around. Hagrid was at the Three Broomsticks, probably drinking butterbeer, a favorite of students and teachers alike. Personally, Harry had to admit that some butterbeer would have tasted really good right then.  
  
"Nothing unusual, or so it seems."  
  
"Mischief managed."  
  
The map went blank once again.  
  
"So that's it, is it?"  
  
"We need to write to Ron. Maybe Mr. Weasley knows something."  
  
"Personally, I'd write to Dumbledore. He seems to know a great deal more about you and your circumstances."  
  
"What about Ron? Shouldn't he know?"  
  
"After Dumbledore."  
  
Hedwig flew to Harry shoulder and nibbled his ear.  
  
"Well, how about it, Hedwig? Dumbledore then Ron?"  
  
She flew to window and shook her foot, signalling her readiness to go.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Taking out a piece of parchment and his quill, Harry quickly scribbled a few words, then tied the folded parchment to Hedwig's ready leg.  
  
"As quick as you can."  
  
Hedwig took off and within a few moments she was moving out of sight.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry. Dumbledore will know what to do. Let's study and get our minds off this."  
  
"Yeah. For now."  
  
Going back to Hermione's room, Harry started to study with Hermione. They started with charms, as they couldn't really afford to waste their Potion making materials.  
  
"Well, Hermione, how can you study anything without being able to practice it?"  
  
"You can learn the words that are associated with Charms and the ingredients for Potions."  
  
"Even so, you can still mess up. Remember the first year of Charms and Potions?"  
  
"I remember I was the only one who got the Levitation Charm correctly on the first day Professor Flitwick taught it."  
  
"But you see my point? We had the words and had practiced the gesture, and we still couldn't do it right away."  
  
"Well, I plan to be prepared. I just can't disappoint my parents."  
  
Harry mused for a moment. He couldn't disappoint his parents either; they were already gone. But there were others he could disappoint: Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore most of all.  
  
"Yeah, Hermione, let's study."  
  
"That's the ticket."  
  
For the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening, Harry and Hermione poured over their books. It was Mrs. Granger's call to dinner that finally stopped them.  
  
"I didn't know that I knew that much."  
  
"Neither did I."  
  
"There's something we don't often hear from our Hermione."  
  
"Ron! What are you doing here?"  
  
"Surprise! We knew we couldn't miss your birthday."  
  
"But that's tomorrow!"  
  
"Yeah, we know, but we have to get an early start if we want to be there on time," said Mrs. Weasley, apparating just behind them, with Fred and George. "Thank you. I have no doubt having so many people in your house at once is exhausting."  
  
"Not a problem. I've actually been looking forward to meeting all of you again. Hermione speaks of little else but the goings-on at school."  
  
"Well, then, off to the Burrow."  
  
"By Floo powder?" Harry's earlier experiences with Floo powder made him wary of using it again.  
  
"Afraid that's the only way this time, Harry. Don't worry. The Burrow is easy to hit. It's the only chimney for a few miles around. It'll be fine."  
  
Ron took a pinch out of his mother's bag. Ron threw his Floo powder in.  
  
"The Burrow!"  
  
Ron jumped in and disappeared.  
  
"You next Harry."  
  
"What about my trunk and Hedwig's cage?"  
  
"Fred, George, you two can handle Harry's trunk in the spare room, but Harry should take Hedwig's cage with him."  
  
Fred and George went up to the spare bedroom and returned with Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage.  
  
"All right."  
  
Harry took Hedwig's cage and a pinch of Floo powder. Following in Ron's actions, Harry threw the Floo powder into the fire, turning the flames blue.  
  
"The Burrow!"  
  
He stepped into the fire and immediately felt himself whisked away. Mrs. Weasley was right; there wasn't much of a way to miss the Weasley chimney.  
  
Harry stepped out of the fireplace.  
  
"Well, there he is. Welcome back, Harry!"  
  
"This was some surprise, Mr. Weasley."  
  
"Not our idea. The mastermind of all this is in the kitchen, enjoying some of Molly's cookies."  
  
Harry, curiousity getting the best of him, walked to the kitchen. There, sitting as calmly as they could, was Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.  
  
"You! Your letters sounded very mysterious!"  
  
"What letters?"  
  
"These letters."  
  
Harry pulled out the letter that Sirius had sent him that day.  
  
"That letter is mine. The other letter is not. We informed the Weasleys that we wanted to celebrate your birthday in a safe place with loyal friends."  
  
"Then they don't know about..."  
  
"No. Much as I trust the Weasleys as friends, this needs to stay closer to the source, if you understand."  
  
"Hermione knows."  
  
"I suspected she did. You might need to tell Ron but try to make sure they understand the circumstances we're working with."  
  
"What did you mean..."  
  
"In the study."  
  
Harry joined Remus and Sirius to the Weasley family study.  
  
"Only you are to know. Your father made sure that only Sirius knew, but when Sirius was imprisoned, Sirius told me to make sure that someone would be able to relay the message to you. It wasn't supposed to be until you graduated Hogwarts, but, with Voldemort come back and all, you better find out now. It might help."  
  
"Does this have something to do with the thing that Mrs. Figg keeps pointing to in one of the wedding photos?"  
  
"What thing?"  
  
"Accio photo album!"  
  
The album smashed against the door then hit the floor. Harry opened the door and retrieved it. Flipping to the page with the photo of Mrs. Figg, he gave the book to Sirius.  
  
"Arabella Figg. She doesn't know, does she, Remus?"  
  
"Not that I know of."  
  
"There, under this table."  
  
"Magificus!"  
  
The piece of the photo suddenly grew in size.  
  
"She may know after all, Remus, if that is what I think it is."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Something your father left for you, among other things. They're hidden somewhere at Hogwarts, right where Voldemort couldn't get to them."  
  
"Do you know what these things are?"  
  
"Not all of them. The others, you'll have to see for yourself. James thought you might need them."  
  
"To fight Voldemort?"  
  
"Harry, this is why we chose to alert you of their existance now. Voldemort must never know that they are in your possession until you learn to use them. If he knows that you have them, he'll also discover that you have learned of a secret that you and James both share."  
  
"What secret?"  
  
"You must learn to believe, Harry. Just as James did. He didn't believe it when Dumbledore told him, but it was true nonetheless."  
  
"Do you know where these items are?"  
  
"Not a clue, other than they are at Hogwarts. That was one bit of information that James never shared. And what we have said here must remain with only us."  
  
Harry nodded. Whatever this was about must be important, so secret that Sirius wouldn't, couldn't, tell him much about it except the dangers involved. 


	4. Azrael

Title: Legacy of the Father (4)  
Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling,  
various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Chapter Four - Azrael  
  
Harry tried all through the evening to put Sirius and Remus's words out of his mind. It was hard when all he wanted to do now was to go to Hogwarts to find out what was so secret and dangerous; what was this secret he shared with his father? Is this why Voldemort had killed his parents and tried to kill him? What could be of use to Harry that his parents could give that they themselves hadn't already tried without success?  
  
It's my birthday, Harry told himself. I need to concentrate on that for now. Repacking his books into his trunk, Harry walked from the room he and Ron were sharing to the garden.  
  
"Where is Sirius?"  
  
"Remus and Sirius left. They left your presents on the table."  
  
"Did they say where they were going?"  
  
"No, they didn't. Sorry."  
  
Harry doubted that anyone knew where they were or where they were going except Dumbledore. A thought suddenly ran through Harry's mind.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley, do you know a man named Mundungus Fletcher?"  
  
"Hmm, let me think. Yes, there was a wizard named Fletcher that Percy kept telling us about. He was at the World Cup last year. Beyond that, you would have to ask Percy about him. Why do you ask?"  
  
"I was just studying and came across his name."  
  
"Well, what do you think?"  
  
Harry surveyed the garden. Bill and Charlie, allotted vacation time by their employers, had set up three tables and covered them with bright yellow tablecovers. Matching patterned dishes were being set by Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, while Fred and George were using the gnomes they found in the garden for Quidditch practice.  
  
"Where's Percy?"  
  
"Upstairs."  
  
"Working?"  
  
"No, I would wager not. Percy is most likely doing research for Dumbledore; all very secret. After what happened at the Tournament, he resigned from the Ministry of Magic and Arthur convinced him to work for Dumbledore instead. This whole ordeal with You-Know-Who coming back has really got him scared, but Percy's one of those determined types, you know."  
  
"I think that goes for all Weasleys. Maybe that's why all Weasleys go to Gryffindor."  
  
"And Potters," Mrs. Weasley said gently.  
  
Harry looked up at her. If his mother could ever have picked a replacement for herself, she couldn't have done better than Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to have taken Harry into her brood. Her protective motherly nature had been steadily growing since Harry had first met her in King's Cross Station four years ago, but the events at the Triwizard Tournament had steeply increased her sense of needing to protect Harry. Certainly, he thought, she may be quite right.  
  
"So, fifteen today. How does it feel?"  
  
"Just like fourteen, actually."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah. I guess you just don't noticed it from year to year, but after a while, it starts to grow on you how you must have changed."  
  
"How about how much you've changed in four years?"  
  
"There has been a big improvement over the last four years."  
  
Fred and George, running out of gnomes to play with, shot down towards Harry.  
  
"Come on, Harry. Practice with us. I know Wood's replacement is going to expect the same performance from us as Wood."  
  
"Will either of you be taking over as Captain?"  
  
"No, not me or George. How about you? You're the best player on the team and the best Seeker playing right now."  
  
"We'll see. I think we need to see who will complete our team before we pick a Captain."  
  
Harry ran up to Ron's room and retrieved his Firebolt, polished just a few days ago. Running back down the stairs, Harry nearly knocked Hermione down as he passed.  
  
"Sorry, Hermione."  
  
"Hey, remember to fly low. We don't anyone to see you."  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
Harry jumped on his Firebolt the moment he was outside and was soon flying around with George and Fred. Fred had found a particularly nice gnome hiding next to the lavender bush, and he and George were smacking it back and forth with their brooms. Seeing Harry on his Firebolt, Fred hit the unfortunate gnome to Harry, who neatly hit it to George by flipping in the air.  
  
"Nice move, Harry. Wood loved that move."  
  
"What are you talking about, Fred? Wood still loves that move; he will until the day he can't ride a broom anymore."  
  
"Hey, Harry, mind if we switch brooms for a minute? I just want to see how a Firebolt feels."  
  
"Sure."  
  
Grounding, they switched their brooms. Harry watched as Fred eased onto the Firebolt then took off at a breakneck speed, turning and twirling as he did.  
  
"Maybe we should put streamers on it so you can write 'Happy Birthday, Harry!' in the air."  
  
Fred landed, switching the brooms so they once again were in their owners' hands.  
  
"Nice. Very nice. Who gave that to you?"  
  
"Sirius did."  
  
George flew down, still holding the gnome upside down.  
  
"Come on, you two. Let's play. Ron, Bill, Charlie, why don't you play too? That way we can have three on three."  
  
Harry remembered that Charlie was a star Quidditch player when he was in Hogwarts, but Bill and Ron, as far as Harry knew, had never played Quidditch formally. Ron climbed onto his Cleansweep Seven, Bill hopped onto his Nimbus Two Thousand, and Charlie surprised everyone when he popped into the air with his own Firebolt.  
  
"Charlie Weasley, where did you get such an expensive broom?"  
  
"Bought it, in Romania. There're a tad cheaper there than in Diagon Alley."  
  
"Well, and here I thought you were saving your money for other things."  
  
"Well, Mom, I am saving, just had to buy a good broom. After all, dragon care requires a fast broom, and my last one was torched by Norbert."  
  
"The Norwegian Ridgeback that we sent with you my first year?"  
  
"The same. He grew up fast and, without any help, he learned to snort fire in his sleep."  
  
Harry chuckled. Spitting fire was the first thing Norbert had done when he hatched, so Harry wasn't too surprised to hear that, even in his sleep, Norbert was breathing fire.  
  
"So he's doing good, then?"  
  
"It's his trainers I worry about right now. If he can catch me off guard, those fellows with him now might lose him."  
  
"Do you think he would try to fly off?"  
  
"No, not Norbert. He likes it there, I think. No, I mean lose him as in loosen their guard and get torched. Anyhow, since dinner's not quite ready, a short game wouldn't hurt. Besides, I want to see the types of flying skills you have, Harry. I only got to see your flying around the dragon in the Tournament. Nice work, by the way. I was impressed."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Harry, Ron, and Fred decided to be on one team, opposed by Charlie, Bill, and George. Bill was a good player, but Harry had to keep up with Charlie. There wasn't a Golden Snitch here, but the poor gnome turned Quaffle was still a tad hard to keep track of. The two teams used their imaginations by turning the tall hedges into the baskets and making sure the gnome didn't go too far by putting a net in the hedge's hole. Bill and Ron would play Keeper, the same postion Oliver Wood had played for Gryffindor. Charlie and Harry would be Chasers, a position neither of them had ever played before. George and Fred, typically the Beaters, would, theoretically, also be playing Chasers, but each them played defensive postions instead, helping their Keeper keep the gnome out of the hedge basket that made up the goal.  
  
About halfway through their game, with Harry's team up 20-10, dinner was called.  
  
"Dinner! Great! I'm starved. Chasing after Harry is pretty tiresome."  
  
"Really? I thought keeping up with you was fairly wearing me out."  
  
"Good. That's the sign of a good match-up, when neither side can really claim much advantage over the other. I can see why they allowed you on the team your first year, though. You really are a natural flyer; some of those moves prove it."  
  
"Thanks. Let's eat."  
  
"You read my mind."  
  
Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself. There was a parade of food, and Harry was certain that nothing away from Hogwarts tasted so good. He tasted a bit of the homemade tarts and treacle fudge, while Hermione was busy eating a meat pastry Harry couldn't really identify. Bill and Charlie tucked in with the sausages and grilled potatos that had yet to reach the rest of the feasters. Ron and Ginny, sitting across from Harry and Hermione, were enjoying finger sandwiches, none of which had the corned beef that Ron hated so much.  
  
Mr and Mrs. Weasley sat at the other end of the table from Bill and Charlie, eating shepard's pie, specially made for the two of them. George was between Harry and Bill, practically inhaling a meat pastry like Hermione's, while his twin, Fred, sitting between Charlie and Ron, was munching on a few of the finger sandwiches and some treacle fudge.  
  
"Harry, there's only a little bit of time until term starts again. Are you excited to go back?"  
  
"Sure am, Mr. Weasley."  
  
"And Hermione?"  
  
"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world."  
  
"Thought so."  
  
Harry looked down the table to talked to Charlie when he noticed that Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George had all disappeared.  
  
"Ron, where did your brothers go?"  
  
"Don't know. I was too busy listening to Dad."  
  
"Happy birthday, Harry!"  
  
The five eldest Weasley brothers came out of the house carrying a giant white cake with maroon and gold letters reading, 'Happy Birthday, Harry!!'  
  
"Percy was busy finishing the cake. That's why he was late to dinner," Ron whispered in Harry's ear. Harry nodded. A cake like this was a massive project, something worthy of Mrs. Weasley and Percy both.  
  
"Thank you so much. I don't know to say."  
  
"Well, how about 'Tuck in!'"  
  
"Sounds good."  
  
Everyone had more cake than they could ever handle, but it was delicious. Then came time for presents. There weren't many, but Harry wasn't looking for many at all. Ron gave him a Quidditch poster, showing the best players in the world, Victor Krum included.  
  
"Your picture should be on there now, but it will be soon enough."  
  
"I'm not in the same league with Krum, I'm sure."  
  
Hermione's present was an equally cheery gift, wrapped with a giant green bow.  
  
"Careful opening it, Harry. It might jump out at you."  
  
Following the directions given to him, Harry carefully slid the top of the box off and viewed the contents. It was a bat, black as the night and, at the moment, asleep.  
  
"He'll be waking up pretty soon to go hunting. Don't worry, though, he comes back. I've made sure of that."  
  
"But what can he do?"  
  
"In 'Magical Beasts and Their Uses,' it says that bats are some of the best spies and are great at guarding people. They have amazing hearing capabilities."  
  
"Oh." Hedwig won't know what to do with this thing.  
  
"Will bats and owls get along, though, Hermione? You know how Hedwig is about outside creatures."  
  
"Supposed to. Hedwig and this bat are both trained, so there shouldn't be a problem."  
  
The Weasleys were excited, even Percy.  
  
"What to name him, eh, Harry?"  
  
"I'll need to think about it."  
  
"Here's Sirius' present, but the card envelope says to read the card first."  
  
Harry opened the card and instantly recognized the handwriting of Sirius.  
  
Happy Birthday, Harry!  
  
Sorry we couldn't stay, but our mission must press onward against Voldemort before he gains too much leverage and power. Perhaps we'll be able to stop by Hogwarts or Hogsmeade to see you and check on your safety. Remember, Harry, not to say a word about earlier. It was for your ears only. Have a good year and study hard. The O.W.L.s are at the end of term.  
  
- Sirius and Remus  
  
"So, what does it say?"  
  
"Just wishing me a happy birthday and telling me to study hard for the O.W.L.s. That's all."  
  
"See? The your O.W.L.s are important to someone other than you. Sirius and Remus are awaiting great scores. Anyhow, open it! Let's see what they got you!"  
  
"I think all of you are more enthusiastic than I am."  
  
Harry opened the small box on top first. This one was from Remus, but inside, there was only a small golden cloud pin and a card underneath it.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Harry wasn't quite sure. He handed it to Mr. Weasley.  
  
"Do you know what it is, Mr. Weasley?"  
  
Arthur Weasley was, after all, head of a department that specialized in identifying wizard items and their dangers.  
  
"Sorry, Harry. I don't know."  
  
"Well, what does the card under it say about it."  
  
"'To my son, from your father.'"  
  
Everyone fell silent, looking to Harry to break the silence he had initiated. Harry, instead, put the card back in the box and put the pin on. All of a sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was James Potter, followed closely by Lily.  
  
"Mom, Dad. What's going on?"  
  
"This pin was created by me, one of the last things I ever made. It was intended to help you find my treasures, but I reprogrammed it. You can use it anytime you need help and we'll be here for you."  
  
"Did you know what was going to happen?"  
  
"We knew we were all in danger, and we knew that Voldemort was determined. But, Harry, we could have only had nightmares about this happening. This is what we feared would happen, but never really believed would. We must go for now. Goodbye, Harry."  
  
"Wait!" But they had already disappeared.  
  
"Harry, who were you talking to?"  
  
"My parents. This pin wasn't just my dad's. He made it for me, so he could help me."  
  
The Weasleys looked at each other. Hermione broke the silence.  
  
"Harry, you still haven't opened Sirius' gift. Come on! I'm dying to see what it is!"  
  
"So am I!"  
  
"We all are. Come on, Harry!"  
  
Harry reluctantly opened the second, larger box. After what Remus had given him, he was afraid of what Sirius would give. But his fears were melted away soon enough.  
  
In the second box were two items. The first was a parchment, looking a great deal like the Marauders' Map, and the second was a note that read:  
  
I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, give Harry permission to visit Hogsmeade whenever he wishes.  
  
- Sirius Black  
  
"Does he know how much trouble he could get into for that?"  
  
"I could say that he signed a bunch of these a long time ago for just this sort of predicament."  
  
"Maybe. What's the other parchment?"  
  
"Another Marauders' Map?"  
  
"No, can't be. Remus Lupin wouldn't have to have given me the one I have if there was another one."  
  
Harry opened the parchment and read it aloud, though in little more than a whisper.  
  
Harry,  
  
Your present isn't here. It will be waiting for you at Hogwarts,  
Dumbledore assures me. And, this year, don't let Malfoy get to you.  
Besides, by the end of the year, he won't have too much to brag about.  
  
Have a good time, and, whatever you do, don't break your present.  
Dumbledore will show you how to use it, but use it wisely, like your father would have done.  
  
- Sirius Black  
  
"Wow! A secret present from Dumbledore and Sirius both."  
  
"Well, we don't know what Dumbledore has to do with it besides holding it and presenting it to me. He may not even know what it is."  
  
"Very unlikely."  
  
Night had crept up on the small birthday party. The Weasleys quickly made the tables and tablecloths return to their proper places and retired to their rooms. Hermione, staying in Ginny's room, followed Harry and Ron up the stairs.  
  
"Harry, is what you said about that pin the truth?"  
  
"Yes. Why?"  
  
"Just curious, that's all."  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight, Harry. Happy birthday."  
  
"Thanks, Hermione."  
  
Ron went straight to sleep that night, but Harry couldn't stop thinking about the pin. He finally had something of his father's own handiwork. After all, Sirius and Remus had always talked about how smart James had been. Here was proof. Harry was still wore the pin, determined never to take it off. It provided a warm feeling, a closeness with his parents that nothing else could provide.  
  
Harry thought suddenly that he needed a name for his bat, for Hermione would ask for the name in the morning. Looking back through his history of magic books, he found a name that seemed to fit. He would tell everyone in the morning, but how would he tell the bat? The poor thing slept when Harry was awake and was awake as Harry slept. As if in answer to his question, the young bat flew through the slightly open window and landed in Harry's lap.  
  
"Hermione was right. You do come back. Well, I found a great name for you: Azrael. He was a wizard who loved bats."  
  
The little bat was already asleep again. Hedwig looked at Azrael with some suspicion.  
  
"Please, Hedwig, try to get along. He's a friend and maybe he can help you sometimes."  
  
Hedwig understood. She watched him lay the sleeping bat on a pile of dried moss that she had found undesirable. Hedwig was being unnaturally accepting, but maybe she just understands the need for more eyes and ears around me, Harry thought. With that he climbed into bed and thought about nothing but sleep. 


	5. Source of Trouble

Title: Legacy of the Father (5)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Five – Source of Trouble 

Voldemort was finding it difficult to think about sleep. He had a body of his own again, and his power was returning. But Harry Potter still lived. Again and again, that boy slipped through his grasps and survived. Such a tendency was unacceptable. The latest strategy had to work, and there were already many favorable developments that would make the end result easier to obtain.

Only a few of the remaining Death Eaters had appeared at the graveyard, but those that had come were busy finding the other Death Eaters that, for reasons that would be discovered soon, failed to appear.

"Do they still deny the old man's words, Wormtail?" Voldemort hissed.

"My Lord, Fudge has denied to all that Potter was speaking the truth and that you had returned. Most wizards and witches, even those at the Ministry, believe what the Minister tells them is the truth."

"And Potter? Any word?"

"Dumbledore had protectors for Potter around his aunt's house. They defeated our people before they reached Potter himself. Arthur Weasley's family has him now. All 9 of the Weasleys are currently in residence."

"Protecting the boy, I assume? Interesting. Anything else to report?"

"Dumbledore has been very active this summer, my Lord. He has been to various places in Europe and throughout Britain. The Ministry has noticed his movements, as well. Already the Minister is planning to restrict his movement within and without Britain. Rumors are that he is trying to inform people are your return and recruit them against you."

"His progress?"

"We are unsure, my Lord. Dumbledore surely sent others out as well. We have no information on them as yet."

"And the Ministry?"

"They are, from all indications, firmly behind the Minister in their belief of your reappearance. This is unlikely to change without solid proof to the contrary."

"Our plan? Is everything ready?"

"It...it seems to be as ready as it ever will be, my Lord. But Dumbledore and Potter will be expecting an attack. Their defenses will be very high this year."

"We have discussed this already, Wormtail. These concerns have already been factored into the final design. Now, give the word."

"Aye, My Lord."

Wormtail bowed slightly, then retreated into the next room. He lit the fireplace, and, while the fire grew, the potions necessary were set out and arranged. He checked the fire and the first vial before throwing the vial into the fire, making the fire jump for a moment.

"Yes?" came the gruff answer.

"It must begin tomorrow."

"Very well."

Wormtail repeated this process several times, using a different vial each time. It was early the next morning before the work was done. Tired, he retired to the chair behind him and awaited Voldemort's orders. Events had, to this point, moved silently and smoothly. Now, with the pace rising, the stealth of every person would have to be the best. But, for this morning, rest was needed. There would be little time for it once afternoon arrived.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was in a meeting called by the governors of Hogwarts. The death of Cedric Diggory had convinced the governors that Hogwarts was indeed becoming a dangerous place. Throughout the summer, plans and proposals to make the school safer were formed, reviewed, and ultimately rejected.

The problem was always deciding what the danger was. And every time someone asked about it, Harry Potter's name was quick to follow. Was Harry making things happen, were things happening to him, or was he just constantly where trouble happened to be? No one was truly convinced one way or another, but most had no doubt that Harry was somehow involved.

Lucius rarely spoke about Harry's involvement, but his ears heard most all the whispers about the issue. A few of the governors were most of the way convinced that Harry had to be causing the trouble. But most were listening to the testimonials that the Hogwarts teachers and Dumbledore himself had given when asked about Harry. Even Snape, who could not think of a good attribute Harry possessed, could not testify against Harry.

"A troublemaker, for sure, but he doesn't have the skill for this," was all Snape would say on the matter.

The governors had taken Snape's words the most seriously. Most of them had sensed that Snape was not a fan of Harry's; for Snape to be convinced of Harry's innocence in these matters, there had to be at least some truth to Dumbledore's version of the events of the past four years. That left the question of whom or what the problem was open once again.

Though Dumbledore had spoken at length of the answer lying in the fact of Voldemort's re-emergence, the governors were in the same mindset as the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Voldemort was defeated, crushed, gone; his most trusted supporters were in Azkaban and the rest had fled to the four corners of the world. The less than willing of Voldemort's old army had returned to normal wizarding lives. The idea of Voldemort coming back after all this time was ridiculous; the dead can't come back to life.

"So, what is to be done at Hogwarts?" A pause. "Lucius? Any ideas?"

"We could send someone to keep an eye on the boy. Around the clock surveillance so we can determine for sure whether or not he is the true source of the danger at Hogwarts."

Some of the governors nodded in thought. Some were so unsure as to not move at all.

"If he knows that someone is watching him and does nothing and nothing happens, then we know that he was the one after all."

"And if something should happen while we watch him? Honestly, we need to prevent another situation at the school. Think, people. How hard can it be to safeguard a school of magic from harm?"

"Have you a suggestion then?" Lucius asked quietly.

Lucius was sure that everyone else was straining to think of ways. Dementors again, Auror guards, more enchantments, and the list went on for some length.

Lucius had already contributed to the incidents in Harry's second and fourth years at Hogwarts; Dumbledore and Potter had already suspected him, though there was wasn't any direct proof to make a trial over. Lucius decided it was best to inform less and insinuate more. He had gently nudged this way and that.

"What about another headmaster? We have allowed Dumbledore free rein up to now, but we have only seen more and deadlier attacks on the school," said the eldest governor quietly.

"Or a second headmaster, to watch over what Dumbledore does and does not do at the school. I'm sure there are a few Ministry people who are more than able, and the Minister would agree, if it helps Hogwarts to be safer," piped in the portly governor to the left of Lucius.

"Then we need to ask the Minister to send us a list of candidates he recommends for this position as soon as possible. We'll meet back as soon as the list is delivered. Until then, good night."

Lucius walked down the hall to the study in silence. The fire was already lit and ready; the Floo powder was in a pre-prepared bag on the desk. Lucius threw the bag in the fire, called out his destination, stepped through, and arrived back home. His wife, Narissa, was waiting for him.

"He called. It's today. How did the meeting go?"

"Well. Very well."


	6. Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes & Harry's Ca...

Title: Legacy of the Father (6/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Six - Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and Harry's Card

The time until September 1st seemed to fly by at the Weasley house. Everyone wanted Harry to do something with them. Ron and his brothers were always asking to play Quidditch matches, Hermione provided plenty of study time, and Mr. Weasley spent many hours interrogating Harry about the Muggle world. It was hard for Harry to find any time to himself. As he packed all his things back into his trunk, he took a moment to look over Sirius's letter. Harry couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts, now more than ever before. There were so many secrets waiting for him there, secrets about the family he never knew.

"Harry, ready to go?"

"Yeah. Just need to pack up a few more things."

"Okay, Arthur's already loading the car."

"Did the Ministry send a car again?"

"No, Amos Diggory has lent us a car for the day. Very kind man. Ron, ready?"

Harry felt another twinge of guilt at the mention of the Diggorys.

"Dad already has my trunk, but I'll help Harry with his."

"Well, we need to hurry."

Harry was hurrying. Not even Hermione was more excited to be going back to Hogwarts than Harry was. Harry found himself too excited to sit still during the car ride to King's Cross Station, but Ron didn't seem to notice. Harry wasn't really in the mood to draw it to his attention.

It was the same situation inside King's Cross as Harry had seen the previous four years. Fred and George were behind them this time, so Ron and Harry went through the barrier that led to Platform 9 3/4, followed by Ginny and Hermione, deep in conversation.

"Well, I'll help you study, if you like."

"Thanks, Hermione. Snape is about to make a potion of me. All because I'm a Weasley."

"It's okay, Ginny. He hates anyone who isn't a Slytherin."

"Speak of the demons," Hermione whispered as they boarded. Farther down the Hogwarts Express, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were boarding as well.

"But they can't sit in the prefects' cabin. Only prefects and their guests can do that."

"Are you sure that Snape didn't make one of them a prefect?"

"You have to have good grades to be a prefect. They don't qualify."

"Neither do Harry and I."

"Sure you do. I've seen your grades and I know about theirs."

"You do?" Ron looked at Hermione skeptically.

"How?" Harry asked excitedly.

"You always said I was the teachers' pet."

"What about Snape? He hates you almost as much as he hates me and Harry."

"Well, I didn't say being teachers' pet was my only source of information."

"That's Hermione for you. Her fiery trident's in the bag."

Hermione shot a look at Ron but was interrupted by Ginny.

"Hermione, I'm going to go to the back, to sit with some of the girls from my class."

"Okay. See you later."

Ginny closed the door on the compartment just as the train started off. It was only a few moments until it reopened.

"Well, well, well. The Mudblood made prefect. Couldn't find a pure blooded wizard to be prefect for Gryffindor?"

"Eat slug slime, Malfoy. Now leave."

"Oh, Potter, I hear you were escorted to the station. Afraid?"

"Not in the least. I just wonder what, or who, you think I should be scared of?"

"Voldemort is alive. You know that."

"Is that all I should be afraid of? A half-human broken down former wizard? I've beaten him five times now, and I believe that any fear of him has vanished. I am not afraid of Voldemort."

"You should be. He's going to kill you and all the Mudbloods in Hogwarts. I hope he finds you first, though, Granger. I hope I get to watch."

"He'll never get the chance."

"You can't beat him, Potter. He's too strong."

"So strong that he couldn't kill me when I was only a year old and he was at the height of his power. That sounds so terribly strong. Now leave."

"You heard him, Malfoy. Go."

Fred and George were standing right behind Malfoy's gang, wands drawn and grinning broadly. As Malfoy turned to challenge them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all reached for their wands.

"I believe you remember the last time that the five of us all used different curses. What a show! What an encore?" goaded George.

"Come on, Malfoy. I've learned a great deal many more ways to make that screwed up face look worse," Harry taunted.

Malfoy, stubborn but not completely foolish, started to walk towards the next car.

"I'll leave the pleasure to the Dark Lord. I'd watch my back if I were you. Half-bloods, Mudbloods, and Muggle-lovers always come first."

Harry made to respond, but Hermione pulled him into the compartment before he had the chance. Fred and George followed them inside.

"Pity, really. Fred and I were totally ready to test the Demon Delights, one of many products debuting in the introductory collection for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. I would gladly have given each of those gits a free one, just to see someone besides Fred or me under its spell."

"What do Demon Delights do anyway?"

"Glad you asked, little brother. A Demon Delight make the person who ate it grow demon horns and a demon tail that last for a couple of days. We made them especially for those who want to show a person's true nature to the world. And we have the only known antidote. Took a bit to figure it out, but we know it works."

"What else is in the debut collection?"

"Look and spread the word. Canary Creams, Ton-Tongue Toffees, and the Skiving Snackbox, containing Puking Pastilles, Nosebleed Nougat, Fever Fudge, and Fainting Fancy. Just right for getting out of boring or useless classes. Here's a few order forms, if you want. Anyway, we'll leave a few of the Demon Delights here with you for later use. And try to warn us if you're going to use those. We want to watch! Cheers!"

Harry was impressed. All summer, the Weasley family, it seemed, had been constantly around and about, yet Fred and George had had enough time in isolation to invent some more jokes and tricks. Harry looked over the Delights with a certain fascination. They looked like ordinary peppermint humbugs, and, if he had not known that the Weasley twins had made them, he may have thought that they truly were the benign little candies.

Harry and Ron quickly stashed their newest little gems in the war against Malfoy in their bags. Soon after, the compartment door was opened by the trolley witch. Hermione bought nothing, but Harry and Ron were eager to order. Between them, they ordered several handfuls of Chocolate Frogs and a few boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.

"Hey, Ron, I thought that your mother told you to save your money for later in the year."

"Fred and George gave me some money so that I could get some here and some in Hogsmeade."

"Easy, Hermione, let Ron enjoy it."

Ron smiled his approval at Harry, being unable to speak through his Chocolate Frog.

"What card did you get, Ron?"

Ron swallowed the Frog and picked up the card.

"Whoa! Harry, Hermione, look!"

"What is it?"

"Harry, you should look at this. This card is you."

True to Hermione's words, the card was Harry's own, and the picture was from the Triwizard Tournament.

"Listen to this.

'Harry Potter

5th year student at Hogwarts

Harry is noted for his victory over

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He enjoys Quidditch and is

currently playing as Seeker for Gryffindor House at

Hogwarts. The youngest Champion ever, he recently tied

for first place in the Triwizard Tournament with fellow

Hogwarts Champion, the late Cedric Diggory.'"

Cedric again. Was there any end to this guilty feeling? At least, Harry thought, the feeling is not as sharp a pain as it was a few months ago.

"Harry, they seem to include a good deal of information about you."

"Lots of people at Hogwarts know that I like playing Quidditch, that I've evaded Voldemort on a few occasions, and that I play Seeker for Gryffindor. The results of the Triwizard Tournament are known to over a hundred spectators who were at the Third Task, plus the people they told. Anyone who did a little research could find all this out."

"Oh, Harry, what if they know more than they put on this card?"

"Being a little melodramatic, aren't we? I mean, there's plenty of protection, especially now."

"Yes, and look at how well that protection has been at protecting you over the past four years. Since you've come to Hogwarts, you've nearly been killed every year. Last year it was Cedric who died. This year it could be you. Do you ever wonder what would happen if the extraordinary luck that has saved your life so many times before were to run out?"

"There has been more than luck, Hermione."

"Yeah, very concerned people vigilantly trying to keep a watch over you. But, Harry, no one can watch over you every second. That's all it would take for Voldemort to kill you. Just time enough to say those two deadly words."

"He's relying a good deal on luck, too, Hermione. After all, he has to get through all the safeguards everyone has put up around Hogwarts and Harry, then battle with Harry himself."

"Voldemort's been able to do both lately, Ron. Take the Triwizard Tournament as an example. Almost everything that could have gone wrong did, and Cedric died. It was by a vindictiveness within Voldemort that kept Harry from being killed just as quickly and easily."

"But Harry battled him and escaped."

"By luck alone. Priori Incantatem, eh, Harry? Lucky thing, wasn't it?"

"Let's just leave this whole issue until we get to Hogwarts. Want to play some chess, Ron?"

"Change into your robes first," Hermione grumbled, clearly not pleased.

Harry and Ron walked down to the only empty prefect compartment and changed clothes, then returned to find Hermione already changed and studying quietly by the window. Already the scenery was changing, and Harry knew they were already about halfway to Hogwarts. He settled into his seat across from Hermione and began to play wizarding chess and Exploding Snaps with Ron.


	7. The New Staff

Title: Legacy of the Father (7/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Seven - The New Staff

The train was slowing into the station at Hogsmeade as Harry was finishing his first victory against Ron in Exploding Snaps. Hermione was already up and about. As prefect, she had a responsibility to make it to the castle quickly.

"Come on. Our carriage is about to leave."

Their trunks were loaded unto the third carriage from the front.

"So who do think will the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Every year has brought a new surprise to that class."

"Quirrell, Lockhart, Lupin, Moody. Who's left who's crazy enough to try?"

"Moody wasn't the real Moody, remember? Maybe the real Moody will be the new teacher."

"I don't know, but maybe this teacher will be like Lupin and the fake Moody and teach us stuff we'll actually use in the real world."

"Lockhart and Quirrell taught us 'stuff', too."

"Lockhart was a conceited moron that didn't even have the sense to keep the Cornish Pixies in their cage, and Quirrell studdered so much that he was lucky if we understood the words, let alone the concepts he was teaching."

"Besides, Quirrell was Voldemort's man, remember?"

The carriages started off. Harry could just see Hagrid leading the first years to the boats that took them across the lake, but his mind wasn't concentrating on the first years, the Sorting that would take place in a little less then an hour or anything else but what Remus and Sirius had told him. Harry was more than ready at that moment to forego the whole First Day Feast and Sorting. At least while the feast was going on, he would have time to sit alone and sort his thoughts.

"Harry, Ron, did either of you see the front page of today's Daily Prophet?"

"I didn't. You, Ron?"

"Nope. Percy and Mom were fighting over it while you two were upstairs packing. I wasn't going to get involved. Why do ask, Hermione?"

She picked up the paper she had bought from the tolley witch and showed the front page to Harry and Ron. Written in large, black letters, the headline read: "The Search is On!"

"The search for what?" Harry asked as he stared at the headline.

"Or who?" Hermione added, eyebrows raised informatively.

"You think...Sirius?" Harry's eyes grew wide as his own guess sunk in.

"Not just him. It says here: 'Ministry officials have made a preliminary list of 30 names of people wanted for questioning. Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, stated that everything is being and will be done to reveal the truth surrounding the events that led to the deadly outcome of the recent Triwizard Tournament.'"

"Did they print any names in the paper?" Ron asked.

"No, but Sirius' name is most certainly on that list."

"Does it say anything else that might be of interest?" Harry reached for the paper.

"Nope, basically, that's it. Harry, I think that, for a little while, you should refrain from sending letters to Sirius."

"Yeah. Besides, what could possibly happen now that I'm here at Hogwarts?"

"Very funny, Harry. Very funny."

When the procession of carriages stopped, Ron was first out.

"Hey, Hermione, I forgot to ask, but how did the Daily Prophet know all about the end of the Tournament and the Ministry investigation. I thought that Fudge wasn't allowing any information out."

"I had help from an old friend. Remember my beetle from last term?"

"Rita Skeeter?"

"Yeah. I told her that she could be human if she would help us. I put a Reminder Charm on her. If she pulls out of our bargain, she turns back into a beetle and returns to my jar."

"Clever. So, she's been leaking the information she gathers as a beetle to various sources and they've been writing about it?"

"Exactly. All the information that the Ministry wants quieted that could help us to fight Voldemort is being leaked through Rita Skeeter to the various sources that the Daily Prophet has."

"Has she been writing at all?"

"Occasionally. Not like she used to, but I think I had something to do with that."

"Oh, just forcing her to remain a beetle for a while in an unbreakable jar. It worked, though."

"Come on, the first years are right there. We need to hurry."

Running up the steps and towards the Great Hall, Harry, Hermione, and Ron stopped suddenly when they saw Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Granger, a prefect, I'm shocked."

"Sorry, Professor. I just lost all track of time."

"Proceed. You have plenty of time to get to your seats in the Hall."

Continuing onward, Harry, Hermione, and Ron soon found themselves in the Great Hall. They made their way to their seats at the Gryffindor table and waited for the Sorting to begin.

Harry looked up at the teachers' table. Dumbledore sat in the middle, as always. The seat to his right was empty, belonging to McGonagall, who would be bringing the first years in any minute to be Sorted. To the right of McGonagall's chair sat Professor Flitwick, the dwarven Charms teacher and head of Ravenclaw House. Next down the table was Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher and head of Hufflepuff House. She had recently suffered a great loss in the death of Cedric Diggory, the best student in Hufflepuff.

Seated next to Sprout, Hermione whispered in his ear, was the Arithmancy teacher, Vector. Two empty chairs followed, saved for Snape, who must have been running uncharacteristically late, and the new Defense teacher. Almost as though Harry had made them come by thinking, two people appeared at the end of the teachers' table. Harry didn't recognize the man at all, but the woman looked familiar. He couldn't tell from this angle who it was exactly, but Harry was sure that he knew the woman who took the seat next to Professor Vector.

The large doors of the Great Hall suddenly opened and the room watched as McGonagall led the newest Hogwarts students towards the front table and the stool that had atop it the Sorting Hat. As usual, the Sorting Hat did a rhyme before settling into the task of Sorting the new students.

"When I call your name, you will come and sit and the Sorting Hat will call out your House," said McGonagall, unfurling the scroll containing a list of the new students.

But Harry wasn't listening. He wanted to be done with all this and to be able to think about everything that Remus and Sirius had told him. The Sorting continued, and the new students joined their respective House. Ron nudged him.

"Harry, there's a new teacher in Snape's place."

"Yeah, but who is she?"

McGonagall tapped her glass gently, and quiet was restored to the Hall. Dumbledore stood.

"Another year has come to Hogwarts and with it a new purpose. We have the honor of two new teachers this year. Professor Figg will be taking over the Defense against the Dark Arts vacancy, and Professor Fletcher will be the new Potions teacher."

The two new teachers stood to be recognized as their name was called then promptly sat back down.

"Also, on loan from the Ministry, we have a co-headmaster, Talio Dawlish. He is an excellent Auror who left Hogwarts after receiving 'Outstanding' on all of his N.E.W.T.s. He is here to help Hogwarts recover from the events of this last year. Please make him feel welcome."

"A second headmaster and Snape missing..."

"Wait a minute, Hermione."

"Until further notice, only fifth years and older, with signed permission slips, may visit Hogsmeade. Further, no one is allowed out of the castle unattended after dark. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, and every teacher will be making sure that no student violates either of these rules. Prefects will also be on alert for any attempts to go against these safety precautions."

Dumbledore looked right at Hermione, Harry, and Ron. The last four years had seen them breaking just about every rule Hogwarts had, but they had yet to be expelled. Still, Harry thought, those rules are meant especially for me, and it would probably be smart to start following them.

"So, with that, let the feast begin."

Harry could just hear the first years gasp at the sudden appearance of food.

"Harry, what were you going to say?"

"Dumbledore sent Snape on a mission at the end of last term, remember? He must still be occupied with that. As for the headmaster, the Ministry must not trust Dumbledore. We know that Fudge doesn't, after that encounter in the hospital wing last year."

Hermione just nodded, but Ron was already eating heartily. Harry wasn't really hungry.

"Hermione, what's the new password?"

"Welsh Green."

"Like the dragon?"

"Precisely. Sir Cadogan suggested it from what I hear."

"Really? Can't imagine the Fat Lady listening to him for long."

"Nor I. Where you going?"

"My room. I'm not really hungry, just tired. Just don't want to end up asleep in my food is all."

"Right."

Harry walked out of the Great Hall and up to the Gryffindor door, hidden by the picture of the Fat Lady.

"Welsh Green."

"Welcome back. Where is everyone else?"

"Still in the Hall, eating."

"Why not you?"

"Not really hungry."

The door opened and Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room then to his bed. Hedwig's cage and his bags were already here, as usual. Hedwig was here, too. Harry was too tired to think. He had spent all his energy being excited about Remus and Sirius's information and about Fred and George's new inventions. Now, he was tired. Azrael squeaked softly, and Harry opened the cage Azrael and Hedwig shared. Hedwig flew out the window and promptly returned, while Azrael flew out in search of dinner. Harry watched the young bat, then turned his attention to Hedwig.

"Funny little thing, isn't he?"

Hedwig nibbled his finger in response.


	8. The Welling Mirror

Title: Legacy of the Father (8/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Eight - The Welling Mirror

Azrael spent most of the night out hunting, but Hedwig wasn't too quick in departing for the Owlery. Harry suspected that her maternal instincts were nothing compared to her need to know that Harry still wanted her around on occasion.

Hedwig flew off as dawn was breaking and Azrael was coming back. The bat looked overstuffed when Harry checked on him. So many bugs, Harry thought as he got dressed.

"Morning, Harry. Azrael come back?"

"Yeah, he's right here. Looks like he did a little feasting last night, too."

"Either that or he's just naturally chubby. Harry, you know, those two new professors left the feast early, too. A few minutes after you did. Weird, huh?"

"Maybe they were tired too. Come on, let's get to breakfast."

"Yeah, we need our schedules. I wonder how many classes we share with the Slytherins this term."

The Great Hall was abuzz as usual. Harry and Ron sat down just as the mail owls started to arrive. Harry doubted that Hedwig had anything, but it wasn't Hedwig that delivered the mail this morning. It was Azrael. Carrying a small package and a newspaper, Azrael was faster than some of the owls his size, but he was quick to drop the mail off and go back out the window.

"Did you sign up for the Daily Prophet this year?"

"No, I didn't, but someone else may have in my name."

"I did, for both of you."

"Morning, Hermione. Thanks for the paper."

"So Hedwig has already come and gone again?"

"Actually, it was Azrael."

"Where's Hedwig?"

"Right there."

True enough, Hedwig was flying towards Harry with another package, somewhat larger than the first.

"What are these things?"

"Haven't opened them yet."

Hedwig dropped the package into Harry's waiting hands, then landed on the table beside his plate. The first package had a note taped to it that read "Happy Birthday, From Hagrid."

"What does the second package's card say?"

"Says 'First period is with me, though second will prove an experience with this. From M.F.'"

"Spooky. Who's M.F.?"

"Well, what do we have first?"

"Potions, with the Slytherins. And Professor Mundungus Fletcher."

"Potions without Snape. Neville is probably thrilled," said Hermione jokingly. Then Professor Lupin had revealed, with the help of a boggart, that Neville's greatest fear was Snape.

"What do you have second?"

"Divination, with Trelawney. Everyday with her is an experience. She'll tell me that I'm doomed to die again this year."

"Probably. Everytime she saw you last year she predicted your death due to some weird force of nature or whatnot."

"Personally, you two should follow my example and find another subject besides that. It's bogus. McGonagall and Dumbledore even said so. So, Harry, you going to open those this century or what?"

Harry opened Hagrid's present first. It was a small stack of pictures. The note that held them together read: "To expand your collection. Hagrid." Flipping through the stack, Harry saw pictures of his parents, happy and apparently unworried, and of various family members, with notes on the backs of the pictures telling Harry who they were. His grandparents, great aunts and uncles and the like all smiled at him, as if they had known him for years on end.

Harry was more leery of opening the second present. After all, how did he know who Mundungus Fletcher was and what his intentions were? Plus, even if he was who he said he was, Harry secretly wanted to open the box when he was alone.

"What about the other one?" Ron sounded impatient.

"I'll save it for later."

"But Professor Fletcher is bound to ask you about it. You should at least know what it is."

Hermione had a point. Harry reluctantly opened the box and found only a scroll and a small circular mirror, no more than 3 inches at it widest point.

"A mirror? Why would anyone send you a mirror and say it was going to be an experience to have one?"

"Who knows. Maybe this mirror is more than it appears to be, eh, Harry?"

Harry wasn't paying too much attention. The images he saw in the mirror drew him in and refused to let him go. Harry had had this sensation before; when he had found Dumbledore's Pensieve by accident, it had drawn him in in a very similar manner. But a Pensieve looks like a bowl of water, not a mirror.

Suddenly, Harry felt the whir of the images passing him stop. He looked around, but all he saw was a graveyard. Then it became clear to him as he saw himself tied to a gravestone marked 'Tom Riddle.' This was his own Pensieve, but he could not remember ever draining his memories into anything.

"This is not a Pensieve, Harry. This is called a Welling Mirror. It calls upon memories to provide an environment. For you, this memory is the one that came to your mind first."

Harry looked around, only to find Mundungus Fletcher standing behind him.

"This was your father's gift to Dumbledore, just before he died. My memories and many others' are here. But, beware, Harry. Like Dumbledore's Mirror of Erised, this Welling Mirror can have strange effects on you."

"You told me that this would prove interesting in Trelawney's class."

"Get her to look into the mirror. When she has, come to see me. Now, time for class."

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry replied, still in a bit of a trance.

"Time for class. Wouldn't want to be late on our first day with the new professor."

"Right," Harry said, distracted. It wasn't until Harry saw Professor Fletcher in person did Harry's trance seem to fade away.

"Good morning, Professor."

"G'morning, Hermione, Harry, Ron."

Hermione and Ron ushered Harry to a lab table and waited for class to begin. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle came in soon after, looking less pleased than usual.

"Hey, Potter. I bet Snape and Voldemort are plotting your death right now."

"Really?"

"Sound scared there, Potter."

"Not so much scared as intrigued. Voldemort always delivers a fascinating show, but I can't see how he could possibly put on a better performance than the last year's."

"Time for class. Quiet now. I am told that Professor Snape has instructed you well and that you are up to speed with all that you should be. Good. Now, open your books to page 6. Draco, why don't you start us off with the newest discoveries in potion-making."

Draco scowled under his breath but began reading nonetheless. As he did, Harry's mind began to wander and he found himself wanting to use the mirror again. Just as four years ago the Mirror of Erised had aroused his yearning for a living family (other than the Dursleys), the Welling Mirror had become a temptation for Harry's need to know everything there was to know about his family, to fill in the blanks that still remained. He still wore the cloud pin, though he had yet to find a way to summon his parents' presences again.

Suddenly, an idea struck Harry's brain with a ferocity that made it twinge slightly. Harry finally understood why Mundungus had told him to show the mirror to Trelawney: he was going to show him how to use the mirror. His daydream was over and Harry was soon smiling broadly and full of energy. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

The walk up to the North Tower seemed shorter and less tiring than it had the last two years. Harry was so excited he could hardly contain himself.

"So, something Professor Fletcher told you woke you up, huh?"

"Yeah. For some reason, it wasn't as bad as it could have been."

"Too bad we can't say the same thing about Trelawney. Are you ready for however many forms of death she'll predict for you today?"

"I think I've built up an immunity to her."

Harry was still at a loss as to how to get Trelawney to look into the mirror as Ron pulled down the stairs that led to the top of the North Tower and Trelawney's classroom.

"Better put that mirror away or Trelawney might make us look into it and predict something."

That was it. All Harry had to do was to keep the mirror out and Trelawney was sure to notice it. The classroom was filled with smoke and the faint smell of incense. The fire was roaring and the tea in the teapot was letting off a faint stream of steam.

"Welcome back. I sense that our Auras have faded a bit since last we met, but not as much as would normally be expected. Wonderful."

Harry and Ron sat on the couch near the window. Harry carefully set his books on the table and set the Welling Mirror next to them, clearly in sight.

"Today we're going to review the viewing of crystal balls. Oh, and later, since I see someone has brought one, we may try mirrors."

Harry secretly congratulated himself. She had seen it and, hopefully, she was going to use it. Good. The crystal balls were carefully passed out, and Harry and Ron were looking at the shapes in the ball when Trelawney came by.

"Both of your Auras have grown significantly. What sign told you to bring your mirror?"

"Professor Fletcher told me."

"Ah, his gift for you, yes?"

"Yes."

"May I see it?"

"Of course." Harry handed it to Trelawney and watched as her eyes focused on it. Harry could tell that, like him, Trelawney had been drawn into the mirror's images. What memory was it that she saw? Suddenly, her eyes blinked and she turned to Harry.

"Genuine craftsmanship. Now, please, put it away."

"Is something wrong, Professor?" Lavender asked.

"No, nothing. Class is dismissed."

Harry and Ron were the first two down the stairs.

"Did you see Trelawney? She let us go early and she didn't predict a horrible death for you. Maybe she got the help she really needed."

"Maybe," Harry said, thinking of the mirror.

"Harry, where are you going? Lunch is this way."

"I'll be there in a second. I need to talk to Professor Fletcher about something."

"Harry, is something wrong?"

"No, just want to talk to him about this mirror he gave me. I need to know how to use it."

"Then I'm coming too."

"What about Hermione?"

"What about me?"

Hermione walked up behind Harry and Ron.

"Ron and I were just going to see Professor Fletcher to find out how this mirror he gave me works, but we remembered that we were going to meet you in the Hall for lunch."

"Oh. Well, I need to see Professor Fletcher as well."

"About what? It's only the first day of class."

"Well, I was hoping to learn something Lupin taught you, Harry. The Patronus Spell."

"Oh. Well, come on."

* * *

Ron and Hermione talked on the way to Professor Fletcher's classroom. Harry was absorbed in thought. What had Trelawney seen in the mirror? How did Fletcher know how to use it? And why were all these items that were once his father's suddenly finding their way to him?

"Hello, Harry, Hermione, Ron. What brings you?"

"Well, Professor, you told me to come back after Divination."

"So I did. Did she...you know?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Now, Harry, set the mirror just here. Ron, Hermione, whatever you do, don't look into this mirror until this is done. Now, Harry, I need you to shut your eyes and concentrate on the mirror and Trelawney."

Harry did as he was told. A minute, maybe two, passed. Suddenly Hermione gasped, but Harry resisted his first impulse to open his eyes. He felt a sudden jerk, similar to the sensation he had with a Portkey.

"It's okay to open your eyes now. Look."

Harry saw a scene totally unfamiliar to him. He was not at Hogwarts, he could tell that.

"This is Trelawney's home. I've visited it a few times."

"I thought Trelawney lived in the North Tower."

"She moved up there when Voldemort came. This is her home from before Voldemort. Not too far from Hogwarts, as I remember."

"Professor, what was Trelawney's first real prediction?"

Before Fletcher could answer, the scenery changed. Harry and Fletcher watched as Trelawney, some 20 years younger, walked onto the scene and sat before a table decorated by only a crystal ball. She sat for several moments, running her hands this way and that over the ball. Then her hands fell and she became very still.

"The Heirs have always been at opposite sides, but now the sides shall meet in deadly fire. But each shall remain, unable to fight. Thence, after 15 years shall find them quarreled but unbowed, the flight of both shall end. Then 3 years war will end the fight, and one Heir alone will stand."

"Does she mean me and Voldemort?"

"Your family and Voldemort's, more correctly."

"My family?"

"You'll learn soon enough, Harry. Now, if I remember correctly, our time here is just about up."

Even as Professor Fletcher said the words, the world of Trelawney's past evaporated. Hermione and Ron were still by the door.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, a twinge of fear in her voice.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason," she answered.

Harry packed the mirror away in his bag and was walking out the door when Professor Fletcher called out a final warning.

"Harry, be careful who looks into that mirror. Some who look into it may discover its true potential and take it from you. It is one of your weapons against Voldemort and, therefore, priceless."

Harry nodded, then left with Ron and Hermione. A few moments later, Remus Lupin appeared from Fletcher's office.

"So, Mundungus, he knows what to do with it?"

"I think so. He has been taught well. Now, let's see if he can piece two and two together."

"With Ron and Hermione's help, I have no doubt he will. No doubt whatsoever."

"Oh, Remus, is your black dog still with you?"

"Of course. He goes with me everywhere, though he has been very shy lately."

"He has his reasons, no doubt."

"No doubt. How is Arabella doing?"

"Her first class went well. Her class with the fifth years is the second to last one of the day."

"I hope Harry realizes how much protection is around him this year. We can't afford a repeat of last year. Far too close," Remus said, serious-faced. He sat down in the seat across the desk from Mundungus.

"Yes. I fear Voldemort's wrath may be too great for all of us combined to protect Harry. He must be cautious this year. He must."

"Dumbledore agrees. McGonagall will be keeping a closer eye on Harry and his friends than in previous years."

"Do you really think he'll attack Harry now, when everyone expects him to?"

"He's tried before. Like you said, Harry is still vulnerable at times, even here. Especially now."


	9. Professor Figg and The First Clue

Title: Legacy of the Father (9/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Nine – Professor Figg and The First Clue

Defense Against the Dark Arts was considered a cursed position; each of the past four years had seen a new teacher for this class. Harry personally hoped that Sirius would turn up one day to lead the class, but he also knew the impossibility of it ever happening. Sirius couldn't be seen by anyone, anywhere. Such is the life of a fugitive wizard.

"Well, now it's time to see how Professor Figg is: strict, practical, or incomprehensible," Ron said, half-seriously.

"Or servant of Voldemort," Harry joked.

"I'll be happy if she's any better at teaching us than the others were," Hermione said.

"Lupin wasn't too bad."

"Well, you would know, Harry. You had one-on-one training," stated Hermione, bluntly.

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped into the room, they instantly felt a change. The room was decorated like a Halloween party, with orange and black streamers lacing the roof braces.

"What's all this about?"

"A little surprise, for you all," whispered Professor Figg from over their shoulders.

"Oh, good afternoon, Professor," Hermione chimed cheerily.

"Hermione, right? And you must be Ron. And Harry Potter. You look just like James."

"You knew my parents too, Professor?"

"Of course, there weren't many good witches or wizards who didn't know them or know of them. Now, tell me, what did you do last?"

"I think that we were covering the ways to block unfriendly spells."

"Well, okay then. Everyone in their seats, please. Now, your other teachers are probably reminding you about the O.W.L.s at the end of this year."

The class groaned in response.

"Well, I'm not about to lecture you about it any more than to say this: study hard and try your best."

The class breathed a sigh of collective relief.

"Your previous professors have done some of the required coursework, so these first several weeks will be filling in the blanks in your knowledge."

Professor Figg waved her wand, and the chalk started to write on the chalkboard as she lectured on the various spells one could use to block spells of all sorts, the dangers of each and the ways to determine which spell was best suited to a situation.

"Now, a demonstration is in order. I would like a student from Gryffindor and a student from Slytherin to come to the front here."

Hermione was about to stand for Gryffindor, but Harry stood first. Millicent Bulstrode stood for Slytherin, but Malfoy stood too.

"I can handle it, Millicent."

Millicent sat. She didn't look to happy about it, though, Harry thought. Malfoy walked to the front of the room and stood facing Harry, a long glare passing between them.

"Alright, boys, stand at opposite ends of the platform here."

Harry and Draco followed the instructions, then turned around and faced each other again. Harry was getting the feeling that this would end up the same way the Dueling Club match had: both Harry and Draco being seriously worn down by the other. Professor Figg walked first to Draco and whispered something in his ear, to which Draco nodded and grinned. Then she walked to Harry.

"Harry, whatever Draco does, use the Expelliarmus Spell to repel it. It should be powerful enough."

"But what about Finite Incantatem?" Harry whispered back.

"Whichever you prefer, Harry."

Harry nodded, a small grin appearing on his face as well.

"Right then. Mr. Malfoy will be using a spell of his choice, to which Mr. Potter will block."

Hermione and Ron were immediately worried. There was no telling what Malfoy would do, and Harry would have to be ready for it.

"Look out, Harry," Hermione whispered, but Ron reassured her.

"Hermione, look. Harry knows just what to do."

"Draw your wands. Now, you may begin, Mr. Malfoy."

Already Harry was ready. The words were on the tip of his tongue. All he needed was to say them.

"Tarantallegra!"

"Finite Incantatem!"

A puff of smoke dissolved into the air between the two boys. Professor Figg motioned for them to return to their seats.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. The Finite Incantatem is a not an easy spell to control, but it is perhaps the best defense against spells. Which is why we will be learning it next time. Study the third chapter of your book also. See you all next time. Harry?"

As students filed out of the room, Harry, Hermione, and Ron walked up to the platform.

"I was very impressed, Harry. Your spell was very powerful and very efficient. Who taught you to do it?"

"Remus Lupin."

"Ah, Lupin. That explains a lot. He was always the one that trudged ahead in his studies. I suppose he had to in order to keep up with your father."

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"Well, James was something of a genius with magic, which is why Remus, Sirius and Peter all had to study very hard to keep up with him. Now, you three don't want to miss your next class on my account. Off you go."

"Go ahead," Harry said. "I'll be right there."

Hermione and Ron nodded then made their way to McGonagall's classroom.

"Harry, I know why you're staying behind."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I just have to know some things."

"Like?"

"The photo in my photo album. You were in the picture pointing at something, but I can't make a heads or tails out of what it is."

"Well, Harry, on this matter, I can be of little help to you."

"Thanks anyway, Professor."

"Your father would have been very proud of you, Harry. Believe me. We all are. You continue to surprise us, just like James."

Harry mused a second on her words, then ran to catch up with Ron and Hermione.

"So, Harry, what did she say?" whispered Ron as they walked into McGonagall's room.

"Nothing really. She was just saying how much like my parents I am. The same as everyone else."

"What about the picture?" whispered Hermione.

"Nothing. She either didn't know or wouldn't tell me anything about it. But she knew that I had come to ask her about it."

"She didn't even know what it was she was pointing at? How strange," mused Hermione, almost to herself.

Professor McGonagall, like most the teachers before her, spent the first several minutes of class lecturing them on the importance of studying hard in order to do well on the O.W.L.s.

"It should be noted that no less than an 'E' on the O.W.L.s will be allowed into the N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration class. So you must study and do very well."

Hermione wasn't worried; she had the most consistant 'O' level in the class. Harry and Ron had more to worry about; they both had an 'A' level in the class, one step below the required 'E' and two steps below Hermione's 'O'.

Professor McGonagall rapped her wand upon her podium. Quietly and swiftly, she directed her class to obtain an animal from the side cabinets, then return to their seats.

"Now, we will be starting to prepare for the O.W.L. requirements very soon. First, let us be sure we have not forgotten everything from last year. Each student will turn their group's guinea pig into a guinea fowl and back again. Now, to it."

Hermione went first, succeeding without surprise. Ron was next, and though the guinea fowl had a bit more hair than Hermione's, Ron passed. Lastly was Harry, happy now that Hermione and he had studied during the summer, if only for a few hours. The bird still had a few hairs, but it too passed.

"Well, better than I had expected," was all McGonagall had to say on their efforts. She picked up her lecturing right where she had left off the previous year.

Harry wasn't too unhappy about this. He needed and wanted time to think about all the information he now had available to him. Class ended a bit late, though it wasn't until Hermione tapped him that Harry realized it.

"Daydreaming again?" Ron joked.

"Just thinking."

"You've been doing a lot of that today, Harry. Did you hear a word of what was taught in class?"

"Sure I did. But I'll need to look at your notes to be sure I got it right."

Hermione shook her head, sighing slightly.

"Honestly, Harry. Professor Fletcher should never have given that thing to you. Just look at what it has done to you."

"Hermione, leave him alone. Harry's got a right to think about all this stuff everyone's telling him, right? I mean, there must be a reason why everyone is doing what they're doing. Maybe Harry's supposed to be thinking more about this than about class material right now."

"Ron, it's okay. I do need to pay attention to everything that is coming at me right now, but Hermione is right about paying attention to class as well. Everyone is expecting good O.W.L. scores, and it wouldn't be much of a credit to my parents for me to do badly."

* * *

With classes through for the day, Hermione insisted that they all go to the library to study over the material they had received that day, but Harry was firm about going to somewhere more private. Searching through the rooms in the corridor across from the Great Hall, Harry entered the classroom marked number 9 and found it satisfactory.

Ron locked the door behind himself, but Harry was already busy setting up the mirror to try to access others' memories, as Professor Fletcher had taught him. Closing his eyes, Harry focused his mind on his parents and the discussion he had had with Remus and Sirius.

Just as before, the thoughts created the images that streamed into place. It was night, and there was a house all around him. There, through the doorway just to his left, was Lily, sitting and thinking. Harry moved instinctively towards her, when the Cloud Pin began to glow faintly.

"Welcome to my memories, Harry."

Behind him was James, as he had been before when he appeared from the Cloud Pin. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and led him through the doorway.

"This was our home once. Look, Harry. That paper there on the table. Read it. It is your first clue."

With that, James left Harry within his memory. Harry moved slowly through the room to the table. The paper was small and withered from time, little more than a sliver of scratch paper. Harry noted that the handwriting didn't seem to match with the birthday note from his father, but, all the same, it required some focus to read it.

"Through the years and through the ages

Buried within these hallowed pages

Lies the key to a secret space

Within these walls, our ancestral place

The next hint lies with one who was made

Whose judgment is wise and always obeyed

He speaks no lies, only that which is true

Only through him shall I speak to you"

It wasn't much but it was start. The old Potter family house disappeared, replaced by the starkness of classroom 9's bare walls.

"Did it work? What did you see?" Hermione asked.

"Just the house my parents and I lived in. And I saw my parents. That's all."

Harry constantly reminded himself of Remus and Sirius' words; this was his family's secret. It was his duty alone to find it. Besides, Harry thought, I'm not sure what I'm searching for or what I will find.


	10. The History of the Heirs and Hermione's ...

Title: Legacy of the Father (10/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Ten - The History of the Heirs and Hermione's Idea

Professor Binns was the most boring teacher in the entire of Hogwarts history. And his subject matter, the History of Magic, was the most boring class Harry could ever imagine. Being the only ghostly teacher, Professor Binns had no sense of time, so he droned on and on about this minor wizard or that moderately evil ogre in times almost forgotten.

But Harry was intrigued by today's history lesson. The moment he heard the keywords 'Heirs of Hogwarts,' Harry's ears perked up.

"Now, as you all know, Hogwarts was built over a thousand years ago by two wizards and two witches who wanted magic to be taught to those who had a talent for it. Can anyone remember the names of the Founders? Miss Bones?"

Susan Bones was the Hufflepuff's best student after Cedric Diggory. Thoughts of Cedric made Harry instantly upset. Much as he tried to bury the death of Cedric at Wormtail's hands, everything seemed to lead on some course back to Cedric.

"The Founders were Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin," Susan said, then returned to her seat.

"Very good! Now, as each of you know, the four Houses are named for the four Founders, and students are Sorted into their Houses by the Sorting Hat, which uses the brains that the Founders gave it to choose the correct House for each student.

"Now, according to the Sorting Hat itself, Gryffindor was the original owner of the Hat. When the Founders realized that their school would go on past their lifetimes, Gryffindor suggested that his hat, with some magical help, could do the Sorting after the Founders had died. Thus, the Sorting Hat was given life and brains.

"Now, each of the Founders had children. They were called the Heirs of the respective family Houses. Each House, some scholars say, has its own secrets. We have all learned about the Chamber of Secrets, which was one of Salazar Slytherin's secret additions to the school."

Harry and Ron could speak personally about the Chamber of Secrets. They had been there along with Ginny and Professor Lockhart, though Harry doubted that the good professor could remember it or that Ginny wanted to.

"Now, only two people have seen the Chamber of Secrets clearly. How fortunate for us that they are both here today. Harry, Ron, would you like to tell us about the secret room?"

Not really, Harry thought. Judging from Ron's face, he didn't want to either.

"Honestly, Professor, we don't remember too much about it."

"Well, some other time then. Moving on, only Slytherin's secret room has ever been found. According to some sources, the reason for this is that the bloodlines of the other three Founders ran out and the secret died with them. Others contend that the emergence of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has led the Heirs of the other Houses to keep the secrets quiet. In any case, no one is quite sure who the Heirs of the other Houses are, except perhaps the Heirs themselves. Ah, time. Class dismissed."

Harry walked out of class, his mind racing with ideas.

"Harry, do you think that the Marauder's Map could tell you where the hidden rooms are?"

"I don't know. I mean, it doesn't show the Chamber of Secrets. Maybe some of the rooms are Unplottable. Come on. We need to hurry to get to the greenhouses on time."

* * *

Professor Sprout was very happy when class started. Her greenhouse was covered from ground to ceiling with greenery, most of the blooming plants were awash in colorful blooms, and the baby Mandrakes in the next greenhouse could be heard crying.

"Now, this year is very important for you fifth years. We will be honing your Herbology skills and knowledge for the O.W.L.s."

Another speech about the importance of those tests, Harry thought. Can't anyone tell that we got the message ages ago?

Professor Sprout continued to lecture about how only the best were accepted into the N.E.W.T. level Herbology class, and how listening well and studying hard would be only way to do well. Neville listened with rapt attention. After all, Herbology was his best subject.

"Now, we are very fortunate because, over the summer break, the belladonna plants grew and started to bloom. And today, we're going to get their essences."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville worked together, with the Ravenclaws working on the table across from them. When the class was over, Harry's group had little more than a few drops of essence to show for all their work, but Professor Sprout was adamant that the essence from these flowers came out in very small amounts.

* * *

The first chance Harry had to see the new co-headmaster Professor Talio Dawlish was at lunch that afternoon. He had been absent from all meals the day before and from breakfast that morning. He sat to Dumbledore's left and continuously talked with him and the rest of the staff. His voice was raised slightly and his tones were not friendly. Dumbledore just smiled at him as he spoke with him.

"Harry, have you seen Hagrid?"

"Maybe Hagrid and Snape are in the same situation, still out working on Dumbledore's orders. Why?"

"Then who is teaching our Care of Magical Creatures class this afternoon?"

"I guess we'll find out when we get there. We have Charms to tackle first."

Lunch was far too short that day, according to Harry. He had wanted to hear what Dawlish was talking about, but the Charms classroom was a good ways from the Great Hall, and Hermione insisted on being there a tad early.

Professor Flitwick had barely returned from lunch when Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into the classroom. He looked a bit surprised that students would be so early to his class, especially as it was right after lunch.

"Professor, can we speak with you for a second?"

"Ah, Miss Granger. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you can check something for Dark Charms."

"Well, I can certainly try. What is it you want checked?"

Hermione turned to Harry.

"Give the mirror to Flitwick to examine," Hermione whispered.

Harry stared at her, a mix of surprise and horror.

"Hermione, I can't give it to anyone. It was entrusted to me."

"Professor Flitwck isn't going to steal it from you. Just let him check it."

"Come on, Harry. It's just for safety's sake."

Harry relented, but only just. He took the mirror out of his bag, carefully unwrapped it, and handed it to Flitwick.

"Do you know how long it could take you, Professor?"

"I should be able to check it this evening. Come by my office at about dusk and I should be finished."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione replied as students started to arrive in the classroom.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron took their seats and class began.

* * *

Hagrid was definitely not back. Professor Grubbly-Plank, the substitute teacher, was waiting for them in the field next to the greenhouses. With her, she had brought several different small creatures that were hiding in various logs and crawling on sticks.

"Now, Professor Hagrid has sent word that he will not be able to return from his summer vacation just yet, but he has left me notes of where you have left off. Now, who can tell me what sorts of creatures we have with us today?"

Hermione's hand was the first in the air, but Ron's was right behind her.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Well, those there are knarls, and these at this end of the log are clabberts and at the other end of the log are bowtruckles."

"Very good, Mr. Weasley. Ten points to Gryffindor."

"So, Weasley does know something," came Malfoy's voice from behind Ron.

"I'll have none of that here, Mr. Malfoy. Now, can you tell me an important rule of thumb that is associated with the bowtruckle?"

Malfoy was quiet. Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"Bowtruckles are creatures who often inhabit trees who wood is used for wands. Although exceedingly shy, a bowtruckle will attack when the tree they are inhabiting is threatened. However, if the bowtruckle is offered woodlice, a witch or wizard may have enough time to retreive the wand-wood from the tree."

"Excellent. Another ten points for Gryffindor. Now, um, excuse me? Is there something the matter, Professor?"

Professor Dawish had entered the greenhouse behind the class. He moved to stand behind Harry.

"Nothing at all, Professor. I just need Mr. Potter here."

"Of course, of course."

"Bring your bag with you, Potter."

* * *

Harry followed Professor Dawlish to his office, located not far from Dumbledore's office. Inside were Professor Flitwick, Professor Dumbledore, and the Welling Mirror. Harry instantly knew what this was about; Flitwick had looked into the mirror and felt the full effect of the mirror's powers.

"Harry, Professor Flitwick brought this to us this afternoon. Apparently, you and your friends asked him to see if there were any Dark Charms working on this mirror. Is this correct?"

"It was Hermione's idea. I have no reason to think that this has any connection to the Dark Arts."

"Where did you get it?"

"My father gave it to me."

"You're lying. Your parents, as everyone knows, have been dead for many years. So, I ask you again, where did you get this?"

"Professor Fletcher gave it to me. It was once my father's; he thought I might want it, to have something my father once had. Can I have it back, please?"

"Why did you lie to me, telling me it was from your father?"

"Because I believe that Professor Fletcher was told by my father before he died to give this to me. So, for me, it wasn't Professor Fletcher who gave it to me, it was my father."

Dawlish stood and began to pace behind his desk.

"Now what would make you come to believe that? Professor Fletcher tell you it was so?"

Harry was sick of this, but Dumbledore didn't seem to be rushing to his aid. Harry knew Dumbledore had directed Fletcher to give the mirror to him; Remus and Sirius had said that Dumbledore had something for him, and then Fletcher had told him that the mirror was a gift from James to Dumbledore. But, Harry thought, that just takes too much time to say and could cause too much trouble for Fletcher, Dumbledore, Lupin, Sirius, and himself. Besides, this was a Ministry guy; he was just a spy for Fudge. Nothing would give Fudge more pleasure than to be able to discredit Harry and Dumbledore in a single blow; Harry wasn't about to give Fudge or Dawlish the opportunity.

"How else would Professor Fletcher have come to own something that was my father's? My father had to have given it to him. The fact he gave it to me says that he either wanted me to have it for sentimentality or my father told him to give it to me to use."

"To use? What use?"

"I don't know yet," said Harry, chastising himself for having said anything abut using the mirror.

"You don't know? You're walking around with a potentially lethal magical object and you don't know what its uses are?"

"I know how to use it. I don't know to what end. That is what I meant."

Dawlish stepped in front of Harry and bent down to look him squarely in the eye. His nose was almost touching Harry's.

"You will show me what uses this mirror has, since you say you know how to use it."

Dumbledore made to stand and protest, but Dawlish rounded on him.

"Not a word, Professor. We will soon get to the bottom of this. Professor Flitwick, you can return to your duties."

Squat Professor Flitwick walked out, looking back at Harry with apology in his eyes.

"Now, Harry, show me this mirror's function."

Harry wasn't sure how this could be happening, but he was absolutely sure that he couldn't show Dawlish anything. He had only had the Welling Mirror for one full day, and already it had been found out. He appealed with his facial expressions for Dumbledore to help him, but Dumbledore just sat in the corner, a sullen look on his face.

Harry placed the mirror in a suitable position on Dawlish's desk, positioned himself, and began to think of what thoughts would lead Dawlish to give him the mirror back. He thought of making him think the mirror was nothing but a Pensieve in a different format; it was something of the truth. But the mirror was beginning to react to his thoughts.

"Harry, what is this?"

"This is a memory of mine. This is when I learned what a Pensieve was and what it could do."

"Why is this the memory we were taken to?"

"Because this is what I was thinking about when the mirror needed memories to create an environment; I was thinking how much this mirror was like a Pensieve."

"If you control the images around us, take me to You-Know-Who's supposed rebirth."

It wasn't that Harry didn't have memories of that event; it was that he didn't want to have to relive them, especially for some Ministry spy. His mind wandered to the end of the Triwizard Tournament, to the interrogation of Barty Crouch Jr. The mirror raced to keep up; the images from this memory slipped silently into place. There on the floor was Barty Crouch and Dumbledore was behind them, speaking to Barty, who spoke back in the spaced tones of one under the effects of Veritaserum. Talio Dawlish started to move within the memory-scape, trying to touch Barty Crouch Jr. and Dumbledore.

"What about You-Know-who's rebirth? Have you no memory of it or was it a lie to begin with?"

"I have the memory but I refuse to think about it. I have lived through it once, which is one too many times for me. Now, our time here is over."

True to Harry's words, the mirror's images started to fade.

"I believe there is some Dark Arts involved in this mirror, so, for your safety, Harry, I'm confiscating this."

"Professor Dawlish, are you certain? I sensed no Dark Arts at work at all. And Potter did show you that he knew what he was doing with it. Surely you can not seriously believe that he doesn't deserve to have his father's mirror back, do you?"

"Professor Dumbledore, the Minister has been quite tolerant of your eccentricities, but I have no such tolerance. You would do better to not have such blind faith in a child that is so clearly not well. I mean, to scare the entire Wizarding community, like he wishes to do with his stories, is just the sort of thing that gets good witches and wizards sent to St. Mungo's. And some very good Wizards have fallen prey to it in the past. You may go, Mr. Potter. Your mirror will stay with me."

Though he very much wanted to protest, he knew it would do no good now. Harry raced up to the Gryffindor Tower, the entire way hoping that he would have a great chance to rage at Hermione and her stupid idea. Her stupid idea that had now cost him one of his dearest possessions.


	11. Apologize and Dream

Title: Legacy of the Father (11/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Eleven – Apologize and Dream

Harry found himself in the empty Gryffindor boys' dormitory in record time. Harry lay down on his bed and began to sort out his thoughts. The Welling Mirror was now in Professor Dawlish's hands, but Harry still had the first clue from James. His first instinct was to try to get the mirror back as soon as possible, but he would have to plan extensively to break into the Professor's office. So Harry started to work more on the clue he had received.

Harry examined every line, as best he could. The first four lines spoke of a hidden, secret place within the castle. That was the easy part. Harry was confused from the 'one who was made' part all the way to the end. It was unfortunate, therefore, that that was the part he needed most; it led him to the one who had the next clue.

For the next week, Harry spent the evenings researching in the library, much to Hermione's surprise. But Harry was still upset with her, refusing to sit near her or to speak to her. She had tried to sit next to him in class and in the library, but he would make it clear that she was unwelcome. She persisted, though, finally managing to sit across from him in the library.

"What is the deal with you, Harry? Why are you being so cold to me? What have I ever done to you to deserve this?" Hermione asked.

"You tell me, Hermione. Tell me, what did you tell me to give to Flitwick? What do you think I don't have now?" Harry was really trying to control his rage. Really.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't think he would take it. I mean, why would he?"

"Maybe because he looked at it. That mirror acts like an involuntary Pensieve, Hermione. What do you think Flitwick thought when we give him a mirror to check and he looks into it and gets sucked into his own memories? He turned it over to Professor Dawlish, the Ministry's co-headmaster. The co-headmaster who now has it locked up in his office, under the excuse that it may be a Dark object. I hope you're happy. I don't have it anymore."

"Harry, I wasn't trying to get it taken from you."

"Weren't you the one who said that Professor Fletcher should never have given it to me?"

Hermione sighed in defeat.

"You have every right to be angry at me, Harry, but being angry won't bring the mirror back. I'm really sorry about it being taken, and I promise, I will help you to get it back."

Harry didn't even look up from his book.

"Look, I've said I'm sorry. What else do you want?"

"I would like to have my mirror. That's all."

"Well, I can help you get it back, if you want. I can also help with whatever you need help with this year."

Harry looked at her, an incredulous look on his face. Had he just heard her right?

"You always say that Ron and I should do our own work."

"You should, but there's no harm in my helping you, is there? Besides, being angry isn't going to help any, right?"

Harry shrugged. He knew he would need Hermione's help this year to get into the N.E.W.T. level classes for next year. Besides, she was right: being angry at her wasn't helping anything.

Harry went to retrieve another book, leaving Hermione at the table by herself. When he came back, he found Hermione reading through the first clue. He tried to grab it away from her, but she turned away just in time.

"What is this?"

"That scrap of paper? Nothing."

"Harry, this is your handwriting. So it must be something."

"It's nothing."

"Well, if it's not important to you..." Hermione turned to leave, taking the scrap with her.

"No, Hermione!"

Hermione turned back. Harry sighed.

"When I looked into the mirror yesterday, my dad showed me that verse. Remus and Sirius told me it would lead me to a family secret my dad found while he was at school here; they said my dad had put some things there for me just before he died."

"Oh. I see. Well, it's okay if I know, isn't it?" Hermione had lost her triumphant smile, replacing it with a concerned look.

"Well, I guess now that you do know...I mean Remus and Sirius knew about it from my dad, so...but we have to keep it quiet, you know?"

Hermione smiled again.

"What about Ron? Should we tell him?"

Harry thought for a minute, then shrugged.

"If he asks us about it, we'll tell him, but not before."

Hermione nodded, then took the book Harry had just retrieved.

"So, Hermione, you were saying something about knowing what this rhyme meant...?"

"Yeah. These first few lines are describing a secret place inside the castle."

"I got that. What else?"

"Well, this next line says, 'The next hint lies with one who was made.' So this can't be a person; it would have to be a magical object of some kind."

"Okay, there are about a thousand magical objects in this library alone."

"But there are three more lines which will point us to the right object. See; look at the second to last line: 'He speaks no lies, only that which is true.' Most people would interpret that as meaning that this object can speak. And the line before it speaks of its wisdom and judgment. This is an intelligent, speaking magical object. Now, how many of those are there at Hogwarts?"

* * *

With Hermione's help, Harry began researching every magical object in the castle that they could find. Harry and Hermione's search was extensive: they asked the portraits for information; they searched during the afternoons; and they even pleaded with the Hogwarts ghosts for anything they could think of. But aside from learning more than anyone every dreamed about Hogwarts and the magical objects that were scattered throughout it, the search found nothing.

"We've checked everything, Harry. Nothing matches the description we were given. And the hint clearly states that, whatever it is, it is within the walls of Hogwarts."

"We've asked everyone and checked all the leads they gave us. Come on, Hermione. I'm exhausted."

They collapsed into the chairs in the far corner of the Gryffindor common room and, with Hermione's prodding, they both began to work on their homework. Fred, George, and a few others entered the common room a few hours later. George was handing out small satchels, while Fred was pocketing a small fortune in Sickles and Galleons. Hermione, as prefect, would have tried to stop them from making such a fuss in the common room, but she was too tired and far too busy to bother.

"Hermione, I never got the chance to ask, but who is the other Gryffindor prefect?"

"Professor Dawlish was supposed to announce it, but he has yet to do it, so every House has just one prefect for now."

"Word has reached our ears that Harry here lost something to the new co-headmaster, something he wanted back."

"Heard you talking about it in the library, we did." Fred winked.

"You two in the library?"

Fred and George both put on faces of wounded virtue. Harry and Hermione knew the twins too well to be fooled.

"Have to do a bit of research for our business every once in a while, now don't we?"

"So that's what you were selling a bit ago? Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes is a promising business, I suppose?"

"Right you are. Sold a good bit of our summer's work, in fact. Need a good long weekend to take a trip to Hogsmeade to pick up more supplies and to refill our stockpiles for the Halloween and Christmas rushes."

"You aren't selling anything that could cause a serious disruption, are you?"

"Why? Interesting in buying something like that?"

"I am a prefect, after all. I'm charged with preventing disruptions, not causing them."

"No fun, Hermione." George mocked a frown.

The twins went back to their dormitory. Hermione and Harry finished the necessary homework a little before midnight, right about the time Ron walked into the common room.

"Where have you been, Ron?"

"Detention. Professor Dawlish caught me delivering some of Fred and George's stuff and gave me detention. Just got out."

Ron crashed into the nearest cushioned chair.

"How did he know you were carrying them? I mean, is he searching everyone?"

"One of the Wildfire Whiz-Bangs slipped out of my pocket and went off near Fletcher's room. You didn't hear the racket that thing caused?"

Harry and Hermione both shook their heads. They had been in the library, leagues away from the commotion.

"Well, Professor Dawlish and Professor Fletcher both tried to get rid of them, only making it worse. Got Professor Dawlish in a right twist, but Fletcher didn't seem too upset. Actually, he looked a bit impressed with it all."

"Well, I guess you haven't had time to finish the homework that's due in the next few days, right?"

"No. Put it off. Besides, I've been practicing on the pitch during spare moments."

"You're going to tryout for Keeper?"

"I can play!" Ron cried, springing to his feet.

"I know you can play, Ron. I just didn't know whether or not you were going to tryout. You never said anything about it, you know?"

Ron calmed.

"Well, who in their right mind would mention tryouts with Fred and George as brothers and possible teammates? They would have made a right sport of it."

"What did Dawlish make you do for detention? I mean, even when Snape gave detentions, you were always back to the common room at a decent hour."

"Had to clean up a mess Peeves made in the Potions storeroom. And when Dawlish's head was turned, Peeves messed it up some more. Dawlish made a double chore of it by requiring no magic be used. And I'll tell you, some of those Potions materials don't exactly come off the floor easily without some magical help."

"Did you tell him Peeves had been there again?"

"Tried."

"It's the way he is, Hermione. He doesn't believe anything a student would say. He wouldn't even believe Dumbledore, for that matter. Just that sort, I guess."

* * *

That night, Harry fell asleep and was dreaming away the night before Ron finally made it to bed.

He was wandering down a stone hallway, surrounded by all manner of magical creatures and lead by a stag with an otter on its back. Then, as they walked through an archway, the surrounding creatures disappeared and the stag and otter alone were still with him. The ceiling was so rapidly decreasing in elevation here that Harry soon found himself ducking, then crawling. The stag and otter were both crawling with him, the otter now off the stag's back. Through one more archway, a tall and vast chamber with several closed doors appeared. The otter, though, did not come through the archway. It stood at the archway, urging Harry onward, but not moving to go with him.

Harry entered the chamber, only to be confronted by a giant three-headed snake with the heads of Malfoy, Wormtail, and Voldemort. Strangely, though, Wormtail's head was bent low, almost as if he were dead or bowing to Harry. His scar began to burn, and Harry started to retreat from the chamber. The stag, though, lifted the snake with it antlers and threw it against the wall. Harry moved to the far wall away from the snake, only to find himself on the stag's back a few moments later. It roughly shook him off at one of the doors, then moved in the direction of the snake.

But when Harry looked back at it, it was not a stag and a snake that fought but two young men. Both were dressed in medieval clothes, one in green with a snake about his feet, the other in red with a tattered wizard's hat upon his head and a phoenix on his shoulder. Harry only watched them for a few seconds before the man in red waved Harry onward, through the door before him. His dream ended as he walked through the doorway, and his eyes opened to the bright morning sun shining into the dormitory.


	12. Riddle and Rhyme

Title: Legacy of the Father (12/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Twelve – Riddle and Rhyme

Wormtail's outlook would have been brighter without the Dark Lord's foul temper that same morning. While the plan was, up to this point, going smoothly, the Dark Lord wanted things to proceed with more speed and even more stealth.

Wormtail himself was unable to fathom how the plan had not yet had a hint of trouble. There was so much going on that surely someone would have taken notice, but no one seemed to think about it. And the Dark Lord had only Dumbledore and Harry Potter to thank for the inattention; their truths had made most people hardened in their resolve that the Ministry was right and there was nothing to fear.

And, ever the resourceful Slytherin, Voldemort made sure that this inattention and the opportunities it afforded were not wasted. Lucius had already been in contact with several members within the Ministry who were sympathetic to the Dark Lord, and several Death Eaters were now out recruiting new members and contacting old members within and without Britain, quietly.

But the progress of his plan in the Ministry and Hogwarts was slower than anticipated. It was a delicate operation, entrusted to less than worthy agents, but Voldemort had more need of getting closer than ever to both Dumbledore and Harry Potter. To do that, a degree of caution and compromise had to be allowed.

Besides, the Dark Lord mused, his agent was in a perfect position.

* * *

Harry was among the first ones to breakfast that morning. He sat down to eggs, toast, and bacon, the dream heavy on his mind. It had seemed so very real, Harry could still feel a few of the hairs on the back of his neck that refused to lay back down. Not until Ron, Hermione, Azrael, and Hedwig arrived did the dream take a back seat in his thoughts. The little bat delivered the Daily Prophet then promptly fell asleep on Harry's napkin. Hedwig had only a small letter to deliver, but she stayed long enough to nibble on Harry's finger and a bit of his toast before picking up Azrael and returning to the Owlery.

"So, Harry, a letter from...?"

"Yeah. He says that he says he needs to talk to us, so he wants us in the common room at half past midnight. He doesn't say anything more."

Harry thought for a moment. Tomorrow was Quidditch practice, but Sirius was insistent about tonight's meeting. Harry wasn't entirely sure that it was a good idea for Sirius to be anywhere near Hogwarts. He was with Remus Lupin and with Remus he should stay. After all, Remus would have the good sense to keep a low profile, especially when Sirius was with him.

"Well, to class. I wonder what Fletcher has in store for us today?"

"Who knows, maybe he has something else for Harry?"

"Probably not, or he would have given it to me already. Anyway, let's go."

* * *

Professor Fletcher was starting the O.W.L. level Potions that day. The cauldrons were heated up and students were working diligently within ten minutes of arriving in the classroom.

"Now, since Professor Snape has kept you all up to speed, we are able to have plenty of time to learn the rest of the needed material for the O.W.L.s. Today's potion will be the Aging Potion, which I hear a few sixth year students tried to use last year to join the Triwizard Tournament. Their potion was successful, even if their plan was not."

Ron chuckled to himself; Fred, George and Lee Jordan had tried to pass Dumbledore's Age Line around the Goblet of Fire, only to be thrown a way away from the Goblet and to grow long white beards.

"The instructions on the board should be simple enough to follow, and I'll be walking around helping as you need it. Any questions? Then, to it."

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were busy stirring the potion when Professor Fletcher came by their table.

"Doing okay here? Neville, is it? This looks very good. Be sure to add the mistletoe after the solution cools."

Neville positively beamed; it was clear that he liked Potions a good deal more when Snape wasn't there to harass him. Harry had to agree; without Snape's persecution, he was able to not only brew a potion that was the correct shade of purple, but he was certain he had done it right.

"I see a few people are finishing up. After you finish brewing, bottle a sample of your potion, clean up, and then you may go. Remember to label which vial is yours."

Harry and Neville were the first to finish, followed closely by Ron and Hermione. They chatted quietly as they cleaned, remarking how simple Potions seemed to be now. Their table and caldrons cleaned and their samples turned in, they left feeling very good about Potions for the first time.

The only ones who weren't happy about Snape's absence were the Slytherins, particularly Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. They were among the last ones to finish, and their potion was not the deep violet that most everyone else's was. Harry gave them a little look of victory and headed out.

Getting out of Potions a tad early was a blessing for Harry and Ron, who had a long, hard walk up to the North Tower from the dungeons (which was usually a long, hard run.) Neville and Hermione didn't need to rush; the classrooms for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy were not too far from the Potions dungeon.

"See you guys at lunch. Have fun with Trelawney!" Hermione joked as Ron and Harry headed up to the North Tower.

"Have fun with Trelawney? Hardly. She let us out early last time. Maybe she'll do it again before she foretells more bogus futures for us."

Harry knew Trelawney was unlikely to let them out early. She had been startled by the Welling Mirror's effects on her last time, but the Welling Mirror wasn't going to stop her from holding class this time.

* * *

Harry, Ron and the rest of the class had been seated for several minutes before Professor Trelawney arrived, out of breath. She sat down in a chair near the door.

"Is everything okay, Professor?" Lavender and Parvati were the most concerned about Trelawney, as they were the most attentive students in the class.

"Oh, dears, yes. Everything is fine. Now, last time, we were going to review crystal balls. So, see what lays in the future for your partner."

Having caught her breath, Professor Trelawney began her usual walk around the room. Parvati and Lavender, of course, were doing splendidly. When she came to Harry and Ron's table, Ron was just about to read the future for Harry.

"Well, my dear, what do you see?"

"I see, um, an eye, which signifies that, um, you need to be observant, Harry."

Harry wanted to chuckle. With Voldemort back, he had better be observant, or Voldemort might have another excellent chance to kill him.

"And I see, um, a dog, symbolizing loyalty and a search for something."

Harry thought of Sirius in his Animagus form and of the meeting tonight.

"And, um, I guess I see a hat, meaning you are either keeping a secret or deceiving someone."

Harry stopped wanting to chuckle. Ron didn't know, unless Hermione had told him. Trelawney nodded and ushered for Ron to continue.

"Very good. Your Aura has improved greatly." Trelawney nodded her approval before moving on to the next table. The class was nearly finished when Trelawney spoke to the whole class again.

"Now, we seem to be doing well with crystal balls, so next time, be ready to start on mirrors."

Harry was still stunned all the way down to lunch. Hermione met them in the Great Hall.

"How was Trelawney's class? How many different ways are you going to croak this year, Harry?"

"None, according to Ron. How did you come up with those images?"

"Well, the eye, I think, was yours, glaring at me through the glass. The dog was Sirius, obviously, and the hat? There was a little 't' shaped thing in there. I was just guessing around at what it was."

Hermione sat thinking for a minute, then jumped up and walked out of the Great Hall.

Ron looked at Harry.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing. Come on. Better see what she's up to."

* * *

Ron and Harry found Hermione in the library, surrounded by books.

"Hermione, what's gotten into you?"

"Harry, I found the answer."

"Answer? To what?"

Harry and Ron sat down.

"Ron, remember that day I had the mirror and I used it on my own?"

"Yeah. You said you saw your mum and dad and your old house. Why?"

Harry pulled out the slip of paper he had written the clue on.

"Well, that's not all I saw. My dad showed up and gave me this. It's some sort of clue to a hidden place within the castle. That's what Hermione means when she says she has the answer; she has solved this rhyme."

Ron looked over the paper, then turned back to Harry and Hermione.

"Why keep this hidden from me, then? We're mates, right?"

"Ron, it's not like that. Harry didn't even tell me, and I didn't know anything about it until I snatched that paper when Harry wasn't looking. It's something that Remus and Sirius told him to keep a secret. And you have to keep it secret too."

Ron looked at Harry and Hermione, both quite sorry.

"Well, what does that mean?"

"It referred to some sort of magical object, one that could talk and was intelligent. When you mentioned the hat you saw, it got me thinking about a magical hat..."

"The Sorting Hat!"

"Exactly. It fits every requirement set down in the clue. The problem is that the Sorting Hat is locked inside of Dumbledore's office."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I can just ask to see Dumbledore; I'm sure if I explain the situation, he'll understand."

Hermione shook her head.

"Neither of you noticed Dumbledore's absence this morning at breakfast and again at lunch?"

Harry and Ron shook their heads.

"Honestly. The new headmaster, Dawlish, is evidently keeping Dumbledore on his toes. You heard the way he was going after Dumbledore the first day? Well, Dumbledore hasn't been the only one, apparently. I've seen several of the teachers on the verge of weeping after he visits their class."

"Fudge is just looking for a reason to sack Dumbledore, isn't he?"

"And any teacher that supports him, which would be most of them. I don't think calling on Dumbledore at this point would be wise, Harry. It may give Fudge evidence to support the idea that the two of you are conspiring together. I mean, you wouldn't be able to tell him truthfully why you were in Dumbledore's office."

"You think Fudge still suspects me?"

"I wouldn't be surprised, would you? I mean, if he doesn't call you a liar and conspirator with Dumbledore, then people may wonder if you're telling the truth about everything, see?"

Harry nodded as he settled deeper into his seat. This year was definitely turning out to be another tough year.


	13. Chatter and Tryouts

Title: Legacy of the Father (13/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen – Chatter and Tryouts

It wasn't until Harry noticed that midnight had arrived that thoughts of Dawlish and Fudge were chased away by thoughts of Sirius. The last of the students had submitted to the call of their beds not long before. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had been working on homework and plans while waiting.

With everyone else in bed, Ron and Hermione took their planning to the couch by the fireplace, while Harry sat down in a nearby plush chair and began to sort out his thoughts. First and foremost in his mind were the Welling Mirror and the possible ways into both Dawlish and Dumbledore's offices. Even from the most optimistic viewpoints, Harry would have to be very stealthy and more than one favor would have to be called in.

Harry barely noticed as the minutes after midnight slipped by. The fire popped and turned green for a brief moment before Sirius' head appeared in the flames.

"Harry?" Sirius whispered.

"We're all here, Sirius. Don't worry; they already know about the Welling Mirror."

"You told them?"

"Why so surprised? You knew from my dad, right? Besides, I may need their help along the way."

"We had to knock James off his broom during Quidditch practice for him to tell us, but, then, James would have expected us to do such a thing if we found out that he was keeping something from us. Anyhow, everyone else asleep, I take it?"

"Looks like it."

"Alright. Can't stay too long here, but I want to make sure that you got the mirror and had started to work on it."

"Sure have. Already have the first clue solved, but we need to get into Dumbledore's office to move on the next clue."

"Well, Harry, that brings up what Remus wanted to talk to you about. Come on, Remus." Remus' head appeared next to Sirius'.

"Harry, you need to keep a good distance from Dumbledore this year. And don't give the new headmaster any reason to suspect you of anything. Oh, and keep the Welling Mirror strictly under guard. Got it?"

"Well, what if the new headmaster already has it?"

"WHAT? Does Dumbledore know about this?" yelled Sirius.

"He was there when it happened."

"And he did nothing?!?" Sirius' voice boomed in the common room. Hermione shushed him, reminding him that sleeping people were very nearby. Ron looked about the common room; obviously no one had woken up.

"He tried to speak for me, but it didn't work."

Sirius was livid, but Ron and Hermione kept making shushing noises, so Sirius held his peace.

"I guess I shouldn't be too surprised," Remus replied. "Fudge has spent the whole summer trying to discredit you and Dumbledore both in any way he can. Dumbledore's already lost his place at the Wizard High Court and the International Confederation of Wizardry is considering taking away his Order of Merlin. Very serious business. But, Harry, our time here is limited. You need to get that mirror back. That new headmaster..."

"Talio Dawlish."

"Dawlish? You sure?"

"Yeah. Dumbledore introduced him right after the Sorting."

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, both flush with realization.

"Fudge is planning something big at Hogwarts, then. Anyway, Harry, your primary objectives right now is to get that mirror back and to retrieve the second clue, hear me? But take care. Dawlish is a really good Auror, too good sometimes; and he is blindly loyal to Fudge and the Ministry, so keep two eyes on him."

Remus and Sirius' heads suddenly vanished, to be replaced by a hand, searching where they had once been. A few moments later and the hand disappeared too. Harry sat back in his chair again.

"Harry, it's going to be dangerous, taking the mirror back and getting into Dumbledore's office. You heard Remus and Sirius. He must be light-years ahead of us in training."

"Well, what do you suggest, then? Do you have some grand plan?"

Hermione smiled.

"I may."

* * *

The next morning, Harry was among the last to make it to breakfast, right behind Ron and Hermione. Ron and Harry both ate heartily, knowing they would need the energy Quidditch practice after class.

Harry anxiously looked up to the teachers' table only to find Dumbledore there again. He was chatting with several of the teachers, much to Dawlish's obvious displeasure. Professors Fletcher and Figg left together, conversing about this and that. They caught Harry's eye as they left, smiling as they did.

"What do we have today?" Harry asked. Hermione was absorbed in an Arithmancy book from the library, so Ron answered through bites of breakfast.

"We get to nap through History of Magic, wake up with Herbology, spell ourselves fully awake with Charms, and if the Charms didn't work, Hagrid's magical creatures will do it instead. Then straight to the Quidditch pitch for practice and tryouts. Sound fun yet?"

Harry groaned, as did most students at the prospect of History of Magic. It was everything Harry could do to stay awake as it was; he was going to be asleep before the lecture ever started.

"Can we just skive? I'll be sleeping in there anyway."

"Harry! We can't skive! Especially right now. Remember what Remus said about not giving Dawlish any reason to go after you? Skiving begs the question of why you were skiving and what you were doing during that time. No, we are all going to class and the both of you are going to stay awake by taking notes."

* * *

Without skipping a single class and without a nap, Harry and Ron arrived at the Quidditch pitch with very little energy. The team was already in flight and practicing, while the Keeper tryout candidates and onlookers watched.

Harry raced to join the rest of the team, leaving Ron with the other possible Keepers. The wind through his hair and the feeling was transferred through his skin straight to his blood. He flew a few loops around the pitch, winding first to one side of one stand then to the other side of the next. The twins had one of the Bludgers out and were playing with it between themselves. Harry flew between them and igniting the Bludger's chase. The twins roared with laughter before chasing after the Bludger and Harry.

Angelina had obviously taken over command for the time being. At her whistle, the team gathered around the center of the pitch but refused to land. The twins sent the Bludger down to Angelina, who, with some difficulty, placed the metal ball back into its holder and bolted it down. She turned back to the team, who waited on her words.

"Now that everyone has had a chance to warm up, the candidates for Keeper will start to join you. Don't be easy on them. They are from the other team until they are part of ours."

"Can we have the Bludger back, then?" Fred yelled down.

Angelina shot them a glance but said nothing. First in the air was Andrew Kirke, a quiet student who shot straight into position. The twins, Katie, and Alicia all took shots at him, and each scored. Then Harry took a shot, which was barely blocked. Somewhat depressed by his performance, Andrew flew back to towards his seat as the next student mounted their broom and sped into position in front of the hoops. A seventh year with a heavy build, Kenneth Towler was a bit better at blocking the shots, missing only the twins' shots.

Second to last was Ron, who looked determined not to be terrified. Fred and George both started to tease their brother, but Ron flew steadily to the hoops. Harry took the first shot, and Ron blocked it expertly. Harry smiled as Ron readied for the next shooter. He blocked Fred's shot, and even Katie's, but George was too quick for him. Finally came Alicia's shot, which he narrowly blocked. Harry was impressed.

Last came Andrew's friend and classmate Jack Sloper. He was quick and his blocking could have been the best, if Andrew had stayed silent. He was constantly barking out advice, drawing away from Jack's attention. Only Harry's shot was blocked, and Jack returned to his seat more than a little disgusted by his friend's "help."

"Okay, Keeper-candidates, the team will confer and the choice will be posted in the Gryffindor common room later this evening. Thanks."

And with that, Angelina dismissed all but the team members.

"Okay, team, who will it be?"

Harry, Fred, George, and Alicia voted for Ron, who seemed to have shown the best ability of the four. Angelina refused to vote, and Katie voted for Kenneth.

"So, Ron it is. And, now that we know all the team members, who's going to be the new Captain?"

"Why don't you do it, Angelina? You're already in charge, after all," Alicia said as shrugged. The rest of the team agreed.

"Fine. I'll post this news in the common room, along with the practice schedule. First match against Slytherin isn't too far off, and we need to get our new Keeper ready."

"So, does that mean we'll be getting the Bludgers out at practice?" Fred piped in.

"Everything but the Snitch. We don't know what the Slytherins might be planning, but we need to be ready for them."

* * *

Harry was on his way back up to Gryffindor Tower when he spotted Dawlish coming towards him. Still outraged at having the Welling Mirror taken but mindful of Remus and Sirius' warnings, Harry started to calmly walk past him and continue on his way.

"Mr. Potter, I have a matter I wish to discuss with you. Please-"

"Professor, I really need to get back to Gryffindor Tower. I have loads of work to do."

"Any of that work involve talking to escaped criminals through the fireplace?"

Harry remembered the hand that had appeared just after Remus and Sirius had disappeared. Was there anything this Ministry guy wouldn't do to spy on people?

"No, Professor, it doesn't. Just the usual: writing essays, drawing star charts and memorizing historical facts."

"See that it never does."

Harry nodded, then continued on to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

Inside the common room, Hermione and Ron were already hard at work on the star charts that were due that night. Hermione was the first to notice his arrival.

"Harry, there you are. What kept you? Some of the others came back a while ago."

"Dawlish. It was his hand we saw in the fireplace last night. I think he knows we were talking to Sirius."

Harry flopped down on the couch face first, his star charts falling to the floor. He had never felt less like doing homework. Hermione reached over and organized his papers on the floor.

"There's not that much to do on these star charts, Harry. They shouldn't take you too long at all."

Harry stared down at the charts; they were nearly finished as they were. He gave in and joined Hermione and Ron in finishing the homework.


	14. Tea with Talio

Title: Legacy of the Father (14/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen – Tea with Talio

With the star charts finished and homework done for the time being, Ron and Harry began to discuss the tryouts over wizard chess. Hermione was absorbed in an old Charms textbook, but occasionally she would glance around the common room.

Angelina and Katie came down from the girls' dormitory during Harry and Ron's second game. As promised, Angelina posted the choice of Keeper, while Katie posted the practice schedule.

"Hermione, I'm Keeper!"

Hermione quickly congratulated Ron on his appointment to the Quidditch team. He was so ecstatic he could barely stand still. Then Ron looked a little to the right at the practice schedule. His heart dropped.

"Harry, have you seen the practices she has lined up?"

Harry looked through the schedule. Angelina had obviously taken lessons straight from Oliver Wood. There were practices in the very early morning and early evening, and no day was sacred.

"We'll never get a wink a sleep without missing practice or not doing some homework."

The portrait hole opened to admit the Weasley twins, who were grinning wildly as they walked. Two guesses what they were so happy about, Harry thought. They stopped their march to their room just long enough to congratulate their little brother on making Keeper.

"It's about time," Hermione whispered as she raced over to the twins.

She took them aside and the three of them whispered excitedly, especially Fred and George. When she finally finished her conversation with the twins, she returned to her seat near Ron and Harry.

"What was that all about, Hermione?"

"Just initiating a part of my plan."

"Your plan? With Fred and George?" Ron knew there had to be trouble when Hermione's brains conspired with Fred and George's.

"I was simply arranging a diversion for you, so you can get into Dawlish's office. Fred and George are the best, you know, so I asked them if they would mind causing some real commotion tomorrow, just for you. They were thrilled with the idea and asked me to tell you 'good luck' on your venture."

Harry caught the twins' eyes; they winked and grinned mischievously. Harry nodded, a small smile revealing itself.

"Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione nodded.

"Well, you're going to need help to get around Dawlish, if what Dumbledore, Remus and Sirius say about him is true."

Harry nodded absently, his thoughts more focused on what he needed for tomorrow.

* * *

The diversion Hermione had asked for and the Weasley twins were merrily engineering was planned for today, and Harry knew he would have no time between the ending of his last class and the beginning of the commotion to return to the dormitory. He had packed his Invisibility Cloak into his bag just before he went to bed, so he only had to dress and head for breakfast when he awoke the next morning.

"All set to go?" Fred asked as Harry situated himself just down the table from him.

"Should be. How about you?"

"Been ready for a while. Just needed the proper motivation, if you know what I mean," George piped in between bites of toast.

"Motivation to do what, I ask, Mr. Weasley?" asked Professor Dawlish, sweeping behind the twins.

"To study, of course. We're going to help a few of the Gryffindor fifth years study for their O.W.L.s and such."

"I've heard a number of reports about the Weasley twins, so give me one reason why I should believe you."

"It's true, Professor Dawlish. They have agreed to help us."

"Mr. Potter. Not exactly the best witness to call to your defense, Mr. Weasley, especially given his talent for lying."

"I'm not a liar!" Harry stood, despite Hermione's efforts to the contrary.

"Not a liar? Who said that You-Know-Who had returned without any evidence? Who couldn't even conjure up the memory of what had supposedly happened when You-Know-Who was supposedly returned from the dead? I believe that would be you, Mr. Potter."

"I didn't lie. Voldemort (a collective shudder resounded through the Great Hall) was never truly dead, and he has returned. He ordered Barty Crouch Jr. to change the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey; he ordered Peter Pettigrew to kill Cedric Diggory; and he is out there right now, probably recruiting new members without the Ministry even acknowledging he is back. All of this is true."

"You will come to my office today, right after classes end, and we shall discuss your detention."

Harry was forced to sit as Dawlish left. He was already planning on being in Dawlish's office this afternoon but for a different reason entirely. Fred and George looked up the table to Harry, smiling.

"Well, you may as well call it off, guys."

"Why? You're going to have the perfect excuse. If Dawlish is calling you there for detention, you don't have to worry about him finding you there. In fact, you'll want to be found there. No schedule change, Harry."

Harry was suddenly happy again. The twins were right. If the timing worked out right, and Harry was sure the twins had good timing, Harry couldn't be fingered as the culprit for the diversion nor could he be guilty of anything if he was found in Dawlish's office. After all, he was waiting for the good professor to give him his detention.

Harry couldn't wait for this afternoon; it was going to be a good chance to get the Welling Mirror back and settle the score with this spying Ministry git.

* * *

Malfoy was the first one to congratulate Harry on his afternoon appointment. Before Professor Fletcher arrived in the classroom, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle found themselves calling to Harry from their table.

"My family knows Talio Dawlish personally. I'd say Potter is in for more than just cleaning. Loads more. But it was an absolutely beautiful speech that earned him this honor, don't you think, Granger? How about you, Weasley?"

"Put a cork in it, Malfoy."

"Now, now, everyone," murmured Professor Fletcher, as he entered from the storage room. He flipped the chalkboard over to reveal the instructions for today's potion.

"I want to call your attention to step 3; the color should be a very pale blue and it should be barely boiling when you put the lionfish spine in."

Harry was too excited to be mindful of the potion. If it had not been for Hermione, Harry's potion would have been ruined. When they turned in their potions and left, Harry was grinning from ear to ear.

"Harry, can you be a little less enthusiastic about today? I mean, you're supposed to have detention today. That's not something you go around smiling about, you know?"

"She's right, mate. You'll give them away, acting like you are. Look more depressed about your absolutely fabulous luck."

"Ron, how can Harry be so happy and someone not think it's weird? Honestly. Anyway, you two need to get to the North Tower. Trelawney has already predicted your slight tardiness. Wouldn't want her to be wrong, now would you?" Hermione giggled as she walked off to Arithmancy.

"All jokes aside, Hermione's not far wrong. Just think about everything else but this afternoon, like where we are headed right now."

Harry's grin disappeared. Trelawney was so certain of Harry's impending death that it was more out of a sense of seeing what she would "predict" next than out of a genuine want to learn that Harry continued to go to Divination. Though, Harry mused silently, a few of this year's classes had proved incredibly interesting and useful.

* * *

If thoughts of Trelawney made it easier for Harry to fake a slightly depressed mood, the massive load of homework given by both Professor Fletcher and Professor McGonagall made it real. Each professor had given 14 inches of essay work, due in only a few days.

Harry's only satisfying thought at the moment was this afternoon's events. Even so, Harry had to drag himself into Dawlish's office.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I had my reservations as to whether or not you would show up on your own. I'm surprised. Well, sit there. You have a detention to work off. But, before you do it, I want some information. I know that you were speaking to someone in the Gryffindor fireplace. Who was it? And, I'll warn you, I have been authorized to use Veritaserum if I find it necessary. So, speak the truth."

"I was speaking to Remus Lupin. He was a professor here. I wanted to ask him about some things."

"What things?"

"I wanted to know how to make my Patronus stronger."

"Fifth years can't do Patronus Charms. That's N.E.W.T. level magic. Hence, you're lying. Again."

"I'm not lying. I'll prove it to you."

"Very well, then. Try."

Harry pulled up the memory that had resulted in his life-saving rescue of Sirius at the lake: the thought of living with Sirius and not with the Dursleys. He let the warm feeling fill him before even he pulled out his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" It took but the briefest of pauses before the silvery strands burst forth from Harry's wand and formed the stag that was his father's signature form. It stayed only a moment, but it was enough. Dawlish returned to his seat.

"You say you were asking this Lupin to help you make it stronger? And why him? Why not your current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, this Professor Fletcher?"

"Well, sir, it was Professor Lupin who taught me the Patronus Charm during my 3rd year here. I trust him a bit more with this Charm work than I do anyone else."

Dawlish remained seated and gestured for Harry to return to his seat.

"Mr. Potter, it is indeed extraordinary that you can do this level of magic, but it does not prove that your previous lies were anything more than that: lies. Now, your first detention with me will be..."

Even the heavy jars on the floor shook when the first of the Weasley's contraptions went off. The second and third were quick to follow. Dawlish eyed Harry for a moment.

"You are to stay precisely as you are."

Harry watched as Dawlish flew out of his office towards the disruption. Harry waited just long enough to know Dawlish was well on his way before starting after the Welling Mirror. He started with the desk, the cabinets, and the chest in the corner. Nothing. The storage room? Full of nothing but clothes. Harry was about to close the door when he saw a glimmer of light. In Dawlish's coat pock was the mirror. Ron was right; he had some incredible luck. No locks or Charms or anything around the Mirror.

Harry placed it near the bottom of his bag and returned to his seat. He made sure everything was as it had been and tried as best he could to be as unhappy now as he had been a several minutes ago. It took thinking about all his homework to remind Harry of his previous unhappiness. He focused on his present workload and tried to forget about the Mirror he had gotten back.

Dawlish returned with Fred in tow, who winked at Harry as walked into the office. Harry was a bit surprised; usually if someone caught one Weasley twin, they got the other one too.

"Well, I think this is quite a coincidence. This morning, you two were all about a plot and this afternoon there is a massive magical fireworks display in the hallways. Oh, don't give me that face, Mr. Potter; I know that you have something to do with this most recent disruption. Well, what say you?"

"Professor, even if I told you the truth, which is that I didn't have anything to do with this, you wouldn't believe me."

"He's right, Professor Dawlish. Harry didn't do a thing. It was me alone. Even George didn't know, surprising as that may be. What Harry said this morning was a bit off, though."

Harry was tempted to shoot him a vicious glare but though better of it. Fred knew what he was doing after all.

"Is that right?"

"Sure is, Professor. Truth is that Harry and I were going to practice some new Quidditch moves. He was going to show me the Wronski Feint."

"And why would such instruction need to be secret?"

"Because, Professor, the Wronski Feint is very dangerous. Only truly great players like Victor Krum and Harry can do it right the first time they try it. I was just hoping that if Harry did it a few times for me that I could learn it too."

"You must take me for a fool, Mr. Weasley. I don't believe you. You have been caught red-handed, but I know there had to be others, including your twin and Mr. Potter here. So, boys, detention for the both of you. You will meet me here tomorrow at noon. I deduct an hour of work for every name I confirm was involved. They will work in your place. But, in order to cash in on this deal, you have to tell me the names now."

"Well, there are no others, so I guess I'll be doing detention alone."

"Cheer up, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter here has a detention to do for his outburst this morning. You two can do it together. Mr. Weasley, you will remain in the Infirmary until noon tomorrow. Mr. Potter will join us then. Back to your room in Gryffindor Tower, Mr. Potter."

Fred and Dawlish were right behind Harry as he started his walk back to his room. Harry turned to look back at Fred, who smiled viciously back at him. Harry was silent until he got to Gryffindor Tower. There not 20 feet inside the common room was Hermione, Ron, George, and, much to Harry's shock, Fred.

"But I just..."

"Dawlish is going to be hard-pressed to figure out how he could blame me for something Lee did. Besides, he saw Lee far away from the scene not moments before it happened, so Lee can't be blamed. I mean, like he said, he caught the perpetrator red-handed. He just thought it was me. His mistake."

Fred and George were both in stitches over how clever they were. But Harry was even happier.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded, quite pleased with the plan's triumphant outcome.

"Now we only have Dumbledore's office to invade. And we can't have Fred or George do anything. They're going to be in enough trouble over this," Ron whispered as they headed over to the couches by the fireplace.

"Gee, Ron, you make it sound so much easier."

"Both of you, I think we need to be model students for a bit," cautioned Hermione.

"There's work to be done now, Hermione. I still have to get the next clue from the Sorting Hat. Oh, and I have detention tomorrow at noon. Quidditch practice is in the early evening, so I need to do whatever it is for detention quick as I can."

"You'd better." Angelina had crept up behind them. "Still, I think we can get a fair practice in, even without you there. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I'll try my best." Harry smiled slightly. Angelina nodded.


	15. Through the Seal

Title: Legacy of the Father (15/?)

Spoilers: First four books; contains some elements introduced in the 5th book, but is set during Harry's 5th year.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen – Through the Phoenix

Lee returned to Gryffindor Tower as the celebrations of the successful mission were winding down. Only a few people greeted him, his part in this whole ordeal having remained hidden. Harry nodded his thanks, while Fred and George praised the brilliance of his performance.

But Lee and the twins' brilliant performance was not considered a cause for celebration for Professor Dawlish. Fred's magic had ended not long after Dawlish had locked Lee, posing as Fred, in the Infirmary. Madam Pomfrey had been given strict orders to keep Fred in his bed until Dawlish came back for him but she had not been told anything about Lee. He marched out whistling, a carefree attitude so routine to him. It didn't seem too unbelievable that in all the commotion that came with bringing in a Weasley twin that one of his friends could have slipped in unnoticed.

Madam Pomfrey had been the first to sound the alert. She had gone to check on her most recent addition, only to find no one there. Dawlish instantly suspected more trickery out of the twins and Harry Potter. He stormed up to Gryffindor Tower, only to be turned back by the Fat Lady. She refused to open the portal door without the password, headmaster or no headmaster.

As it was Saturday, students were more likely to rest than to rush to breakfast, so Dawlish was forced to wait for the Gryffindor early risers to start making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were among the first to wake up that morning, but they made their way to the Great Hall with many of the other Gryffindors.

"Mr. Potter!" Dawlish called out as the group passed through the Fat Lady's door.

"It's not yet noon, Professor, and I haven't done anything during the night, surely."

"Where is your friend Mr. Weasley? Mr. Fred Weasley? I don't see him here with you this morning."

Harry made to answer, but Angelina beat him to it.

"Fred has been with the seventh years since classes let out yesterday afternoon, Professor. We can all attest to that."

"I was speaking to Mr. Potter, Miss Johnson. If I had wanted for you to answer, I would have asked you. But, seeing as you seem to know just about everything about Mr. Weasley's activities of late, where is he now?"

"In bed, I suppose. We didn't see him in the common room when we left."

"Scheming in his room, is it? Who is the prefect for Gryffindor?"

Hermione stepped forward.

"What is the password?"

"We were told not to tell anyone outside of the House, Professor, after what happened last year and all. It's for safety."

"Your name?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh, yes. A common co-conspirator with Mr. Potter was what the report said of you."

"I am Harry's friend, yes. But many here in Hogwarts are, for good reason. He tries his best to help people."

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, you two will join me to my office. The rest of you better go to breakfast."

Harry was already serving one detention. Now he might be serving another for saying nothing at all. And Hermione might be joining him just for being his friend and standing up for him.

In Dawlish's office, Harry remembered that the Welling Mirror was still in his bag, right under his Quidditch outfit. Dawlish, though, didn't seem to know that it was missing yet, and Harry hoped that that would remain true for some time yet, at least through this meeting and his detention.

"Well, what have you to say about your rudeness, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked at Harry, took a deep breath and answered.

"I spoke only what I thought I must, Professor. I was trying to help you to see why I and many others have a friendship with Harry. When you used the word co-conspirator, it made it sound as if Harry has been doing terrible things and everyone who was his friend was helping him."

"That is precisely what I meant, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter is a troublemaker, and those who are so avidly his friend must be too."

Hermione, who had tried to force Harry to hold his temper yesterday morning, was finding hard to control herself. Harry could no longer be silent. After all, he was already on Dawlish's black list; there was no need to add Hermione or anyone else.

"That is not true, Professor. Hermione is my friend because she is kind and wishes me to be the best I can be. She is not a troublemaker at all. She is far too busy with classes and studying to even think about troublemaking, as are we all. Look at her grades. Could someone who spends her time making trouble make the grades she does?"

"Fomenting conspiracies against the Ministry doesn't take so much time or intelligence. Even silly children can do it, if they know they can get away with it and if properly encouraged."

Harry knew where this was headed: straight to Dumbledore. Remus and Sirius were right; Dawlish was so blindly loyal to the Ministry that he believed all the lies and half-truths Fudge had been spouting over the summer. No wonder nothing Harry said or did could convince Dawlish to see what was right in front of him.

"Professor..."

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand to stop her.

"Don't bother, Hermione. There's no use now. What is it you want of us, Professor?"

Dawlish eyed Harry carefully.

"You will serve your detention this afternoon, Mr. Potter. And Miss Granger will accompany you."

"Very well. May we go to breakfast now?"

Dawlish waved his hand. Harry and Hermione were in a noiseless reverie all the way to breakfast. Each was in their own thoughts. Harry was thinking about Dumbledore's office and what needed to be done there; Hermione was subtracting all the hours now lost from her planned study time.

* * *

In the Great Hall, all the students had finally arrived for breakfast, including Fred and George. Word had obviously spread quickly about Harry and Hermione's run-in with Dawlish this morning. Hermione and Harry ate without answering a single question or comment. Ron finally had to shoo people away for them. Except for the Slytherins, no one was very happy about the situation. Hermione was nearly as well-liked as Harry was popular; punishing them both for such small incidents was repulsive to most of the students and staff.

Hermione made her way to Professor Fletcher's office as soon as breakfast was done. Ron and Harry followed, Harry following just to speak to someone friendly about this latest development. Fletcher's door was open, so Hermione knocked against the doorway.

"Come in. Close the door behind you. So, what can I do for you three this beautiful Saturday morning?"

"Is there a way to send Dawlish packing?"

Fletcher just looked at Hermione for a moment, as if in shock that she would ask a question about so unrealistic a task.

"Send him packing? It's possible, but are you sure you want to be doing that? I mean, he is here to ensure that greater lengths are taken to secure the school."

Harry coughed down his contempt for the thought of Dawlish as protector.

"Okay, it's safe to say that Dawlish isn't well liked, but there are reasons for him to stay here."

"I heard, Professor, that Dawlish's being here means that the Ministry is planning something big here at Hogwarts. Is that true?"

Fletcher sat up in his chair, and his expression grew serious.

"What little bird told you that?"

"Remus Lupin."

"Remus told you that? Well, I would have expected such reckless behavior out of Sirius but not Remus."

"Why do you call it reckless for us to be told, Professor?"

"You kids shouldn't be concerned with such matters. Now, don't you have studying to do?"

Hermione put her book bag on the floor and took a seat, while Ron and Harry made themselves more comfortable in their chairs. Fletcher sighed.

"Well, first, what Remus told you is not far wrong. Dawlish is one of the top Aurors at the Ministry, but even with all his power and knowledge, he would be no match for Dumbledore directly. You see, Fudge thinks that Dumbledore is going to lead a coup against him, and with a few choice supporters, Dumbledore could do it easily, if he wished. That's one of the reasons why Fudge is trying so hard to discredit you, Harry, along with Dumbledore."

"Me?"

"You have impressed everyone who has their ear to the ground, even if they don't know all the gory details. And you're not afraid to speak out, a quality Fudge detests and you and Dumbledore have in abundance. Anyhow, Fudge is a bit insecure about his position; he isn't an especially powerful wizard nor is he especially learned. Dumbledore's power and influence has always disturbed him, so he has tried to keep Dumbledore reined in. And in light of the events of last year, Fudge is seeing you as Dumbledore's protégé, another thorn in his side."

"So he sent Dawlish to do what exactly? Control Harry?"

"To be sure that no one allies with Dumbledore against the Ministry. In case you hadn't noticed, some of your fellow students are quite strong. People of Dawlish's power and experience are nice to have on your side in a fight, but Dumbledore would rather have people who understand how to use their heads and fight together on a united front, all differences aside. The students here, with a few exceptions, have the ability to band together in just such a way. Look at the Tournament last year, for example; Cedric Diggory was from Hufflepuff and Harry from Gryffindor, but all of Hogwarts cheered one or both of them on. There were also some friendships made between students here and from the other schools. While Fudge can't speak out against them, these friendships can lead to alliances, should a battle ensue. Fudge has spent much of his time as Minister engaged in policies that have driven many away. Dumbledore has been working to keep the friendships intact and strong; he knows we will all have need of friends and allies in the coming years."

Hermione was the first to figure it out.

"So, there may be a way to help Harry after all: by using their fears against them."

"Keep going, Hermione. You're well on the way. Be warned, though; don't be too friendly with anyone in particular. You three are targets, and so is anyone who appears sympathetic to you."

"Even professors?"

"Especially professors. As a headmaster, Dawlish has the authority to fire a professor."

"What about you? Does Dawlish suspect anything about you?"

"Of course. Dumbledore asked me to teach, so I am very suspect. As is Professor Figg. But there is a problem with firing us both; he would have to find replacements."

"Everyone thinks that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is cursed, so he would be hard-pressed to replace you."

"Remember, he is a top-notch Auror; Defense Against the Dark Arts is his specialty. Now, off with you, all of you. Go get ready for your detentions."

Hermione and Harry whipped around in disbelief, but the door was already closed and locked. Hermione checked her watch; it was still early enough to make a trip to the library before going to Dawlish's office.

"Come on. We have work to do."

* * *

When Harry and Hermione reached Dawlish's office just before noon, they found Professor Dawlish in the hallway just outside his office, waiting for them.

"You both showed up and not late, either. Come on. Your work area is this way."

Dawlish led them up several flights of stairs, and down a few, until they reached a hallway on the sixth floor, by Harry's reckoning. It was a place that seemed to get few if any visitors and the dust of the years and magical residue of times long ago didn't help add to the desire of staying here too long.

"I want this entire hallway to be spotless. No magic is to be used. There are a few cleaning supplies and tools in the bin at the end of the hall. I'll check back ever so often. And neither leaving nor having your friends help you are allowed; there are measures in place to prevent both."

Hermione looked at the bin of cleaning supplies. They were all Muggle cleaners, not designed for cleaning the residue of magic. Harry and Hermione each picked up a bottle of the most powerful cleaner and a few rags and started to work.

"This is just to discourage others. We're being made examples of," Hermione groaned as she worked.

"I know, Hermione. Trust me; I know. Our names and reputations were reported and he took them at face value. Best thing for now is just to get this done and keep on the lee side of him from now on."

Harry began dusting and scrubbing around one of the few portraits in the hallways. It was covered in a few layers of dust, but, remarkably, it had no residue on it.

"You sure let the dust gather before returning to visit me, James. But thank you anyway."

Harry stopped. Even Hermione, scrubbing her way down the hall, stopped and listened. They were used to talking portraits, though none of the others in this hallway had spoken a word other than a few gripes about the roughness of Harry's scrubbing.

"Why do you look so surprised? Is something wrong?"

"I'm not James."

"Come off it. I know James Potter when he stands..."

The man in the portrait leaned forward and peered more carefully at Harry.

"James had blue eyes. So who are you? His brother?"

"His son."

Harry was still somewhat surprised. The man sank back into his chair again.

"Forgive me. Your father found me here when he was here at school. He made sure that my portrait was clear of dust and magical residue; in exchange, I told him much about history, spells, and Hogwarts. You know, he and his friends actually tried to make a map of Hogwarts?"

"The Maruaders' Map, you mean?"

"That's it. Clever boys. Only James and Sirius ever came up here, though. I get the feeling that they were like brothers, those two."

Harry nodded.

"The way Sirius tells it, they were. Sounds like they spent quite a while up here talking to you."

"Heavens, yes. I was a teacher long ago, when Hogwarts was still a fairly new school, so I had some knowledge about me. They wanted to know all about the castle. I think they were looking for something, though they never told me anything of it. At first, they came by only about once a month or so to talk; after I told them how to get through that passage, they came almost every day to talk about more of the castle and their studies. It was nice to have someone to talk to."

"You seem very lonely, so why don't you visit the portraits in the castle?" Hermione asked.

"I must remain here, as I promised to do long ago. I still hear some things, but they come to me slowly. That's why you must forgive me lack of current knowledge. I knew James had left school and I had heard about what had happened. When I saw you, though, I thought they must have been wrong about James."

"It's okay. It's sort of nice to speak to someone who doesn't know all about me already."

"Well, I've heard your name mentioned around the castle, but I didn't connect it to James, you see. Potter can be quite a common name, after all. But of you, it would be hard for even someone like me to not have heard something of you and your deeds."

"That passage you told my dad about, can you tell me about it?"

"Well, according to some rumors, the door is at the end of the hall. It's supposed to lead to the headmaster's study. James and Sirius never confirmed it solidly with me, but I assume it is true."

Harry's face lit up, and Hermione wasn't the only one to notice it.

"James had the same look. You must be on the same search he was on. I'll tell you what I told him. The door is pretending to be a wall, but if you run your finger down the wall behind that vase, the door should open up. On the floor is some sort of marker. I don't know anything else from there."

"Nothing?"

"Well, there is one thing: you have to have either very old, strong magic you can draw upon or another wizard or witch to help you in order to come back here."

Harry looked instantly to Hermione.

"No. Harry, we're already in detention. Do you really want to make it worse?"

"Come on, Hermione. We've found the way to Dumbledore's office. We can talk to the Sorting Hat and be back before Dawlish suspects a thing. It wouldn't take long at all."

"No, Harry. Absolutely not. Everyone, even you, have said to stay out of trouble with Dawlish, especially from here on in. Will you not listen to them? To your own words?"

Harry stopped. He had said those words before he knew how close he was to getting into Dumbledore's office without notice. It was just down the hall.

"I know what I said, Hermione. But I have to find some way into Dumbledore's office, which will cause enough trouble. Why not do it now? We are already here, so there is no funny questions we have to answer about that. And I'm pretty sure neither Dumbledore nor Dawlish know anything about this. The risk is as low as it's ever going to be."

Hermione hated to admit it, even in thought, but Harry's reasoning could not be refuted. She walked to the end of the hallway.

"Well, let's just do this and get it over with."

Harry smiled. He ran his finger along the wall behind the vase and the wall creaked open. They both walked inside the dark room. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to close the door, but if Dawlish came back, he would certainly notice an open bit of wall. She shut the door quietly. As soon as the door was closed, the torches around the room lit and the lion statue in the corner moved towards them. He walked up to Hermione, sniffed her hand, then did the same for Harry. He moved behind Harry and nudged him towards the opoosite wall. There, carved into the stone and not more than a couple of square inches in size, was the Hogwarts seal. Curious, Harry began to run his finger across it. When his finger reached the shield in the middle, the floor beneath him vanished. Unprepared, he fell to the floor of the office below.

Harry had been to Dumbledore's office many times, so it was with a certain familiarity that Fawkes and the portraits greeted him. He looked around for Dumbledore, but the headmaster was apparently out. Harry quickly sighted the Sorting Hat and raced to speak with it.

"Reconsidering your move to stay out of Slytherin, Potter?"

"Not in the least. I need to ask something of you. Do you know anything about any other secret rooms in Hogwarts besides the Chamber of Secrets?"

"All the Founders had secret rooms, but Ravenclaw's was closed by her own hand. Hufflepuff's daughter closed hers, on her mother's orders."

"And I have already been to Slytherin's, so I need information about Gryffindor's."

"But I have none to give."

Harry sighed. He figured if he asked the Sorting Hat about the rooms, he would get a response. He pulled the poem out of his pocket, where it always stayed. Harry whispered it quietly to himself, trying to see if he and Hermione had made some sort of error, but there was none to be found.

"What is that you are murmuring? Speak up!"

Harry read the poem to the Sorting Hat. After all, what could it hurt? He thought. At the end, the Sorting Hat laughed.

"Why didn't you say so earlier? Listen carefully:

Your knowledge is solid, that I can tell

But be you my Heir, my descendent as well?

So I send you on another hunt

And your past you must confront

When you are so very close to base

Find within you the family face

Adult, then child, then down on all fours

The next hint shall then be entirely yours

Does this mean anything to you?"

"Not yet, but it will with some work. Thank you."

"Only doing what was asked of me."

Harry went back to where he fell.

"Hermione. Hermione, I got it. Hermione?"

"Harry, I can hear you, but I don't know how to get you back up here. And you need to hurry. I think Dawlish is coming."

Harry looked all about the roof and the floor and around the office, but nothing seemed to be a way to return to the room above.

"Looking for something, Harry?"

Harry wheeled around, afraid Dawlish may have discovered him after all. It was Dumbledore. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nothing, Professor. I just fell in here from the room above. I was trying to return."

"To finish your detention or to tell Miss Granger of your discovery?"

Harry smiled guiltily.

"Fawkes, can you reopen the doorway Harry passed through earlier?"

The phoenix gently winged his way to the roof and tapped the ceiling with his beak. The ceiling disappeared and the room above came into view. Harry stepped under the opening and was rushed back into the room. The floor of the room returned and Harry sat for a moment to write down the poem the Sorting Hat had given him. Hermione watched for a moment. Then they both heard a voice in the hallway outside.

Hermione and Harry rushed out of the room. Dawlish was only a few paces away.

"Caught trying to escape."

"Professor, we were told by the portrait down there that there was a secret room behind the door acting like a wall. We didn't believe it, so we did like the portrait said and ran our finger down the wall behind the vase and found ourselves in a dark room. The door shut up behind us and we have been working to get out ever since."

"A likely story. Very likely. And how, Mr. Potter, is it that you came to be released just as I return?"

"We finally got the right spell, I guess."

"That being?"

Harry looked at Hermione, and she at Harry.

"Well?"

"We're not sure. We were running through them so fast, trying to get something to work, it's hard to tell what finally did it," Hermione said.

"You two have work to do anyways. Best to get to it."

They returned to their rags and began to scrub and polish again.

"He's a bit of a grouch, isn't he? Is he a professor here?" wheezed the portrait of the teacher.

"A headmaster."

"Oh, dear. I'm terribly sorry that you kids got such an awful one."

The old teacher taught them much as they worked. Harry and Hermione agreed that the company, and the lessons, were very welcome. When the hall was as clean as they could get it, Dawlish sent them on to dinner, their minds swirling with new information and plots on how to use it.


End file.
